Coccinata--Remastered
by MissLindaLee
Summary: Linda's sweet sixteen is anything but-after being exposed to red kryptonite, taking away her inhibitions and unleashing a dark side the teenager has been desperately trying to suppress. Will Clark have the strength to stop his cousin before her actions lead to devastating consequences? (Ninth story in the remastered Angelica Corsusca series)
1. Chapter 1

Linda's eyes were closed as she snuggled under her sheets, but she could smell the distinct aroma of hot chocolate; she smiled and sighed as she slowly opened her eyes. She saw a steaming mug of hot chocolate—topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles—on her nightstand, with a powder blue envelope under her glasses. The young girl grinned as she sat up and lifted her glasses to get the envelope; she carefully tore the top opened it and pulled out a white birthday card with a large, glittery blue number 16 on the front; he opened the card and saw three hand-written notes in familiar handwriting:

 _Happy Birthday, Short Stack. Love, Clark_

 _Linda, you have been a blessing in our lives. We love you so much. Happy birthday! Love, Mom_

 _Chores have been done, breakfast is ready when you are. Happy birthday, and enjoy your day off. Love, Dad_

Still smiling, Linda put the card aside and grabbed the mug; she drank eagerly, downing the hot liquid in a few gulps. She leaned back against the headboard and sighed with content as she smacked her lips; no matter how old she got, the young girl knew she would never grow tired of her adoptive mother's homemade recipe. A soft mewl caused her to look down and see Streaky and Krypto, curled at the foot of the bed, staring up at their mistress.

"What?" Linda asked, still smiling as she put the empty mug back on the nightstand. Krypto quickly got to his feet and bounded over to the young girl, licking her face; Linda giggled as she scratched the puppy behind his ears and kissed his head. "Good morning to you too, fella." Streaky protested with a soft yowl, and Linda carefully leaned over and plucked the cat from the bed, cradling her in arms; she scratched the feline behind the ears, and Streaky's eyes closed in content as she purred loudly.

After a few moments, Linda extracted herself and got out of bed. She picked up her pets and carried them to her door; she set them out in the hall and closed the door. She then blurred around the room, making her bed and changing into her clothes; she stopped in front of her full-length mirror and admired herself. She wore old jeans, a work shirt, and a pair of old sneakers; her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She carefully straightened her glasses on her nose and smiled satisfactorily before blurring out of her room and heading downstairs.

* * *

While Martha finished drying the last of the dishes and Krypto and Streaky ate from their dishes, Linda sat at the table, sketching on her sketchpad. The kitchen door opened and Jonathan walked in, dressed in his work clothes.

"Good morning, ladies," he replied cheerfully as he closed the door and removed his jacket, hanging it on the coatrack; he walked over and kissed his wife on the cheek. "How are you two doing?"

"Not bad," Martha replied, smiling.

"And how did you enjoy your birthday breakfast, Linda?" Jonathan asked as he walked over to his daughter; he kissed her cheek. "Happy Birthday, sweetie."

"She cleaned her plate in less than two seconds," Martha answered, smiling.

"Wow, that's impressive," Jonathan replied, amused, as he glanced down at Linda's sketchpad. "So, what are you working on?"

"Just some ideas I've been wanting to work on," Linda replied. She paused for a moment before she raised an eyebrow and glanced up at her adoptive father. "Could I spend the day in my gallery?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. "You don't want to stay here with your family on your day off?" he asked.

"It's not that," Linda replied honestly. "I just have some things I wanna work on, plus I need to get started on a few of the orders that came in last week," she shrugged, "and I promise I won't bolt for the city limits."

Jonathan stared at his daughter for a moment before he glanced over at his wife, who simply shrugged, her expression neutral. Sighing, Jonathan looked back at his daughter, smiling. "Sure, sweetie," he replied, "if that's what you want."

Linda grinned and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Dad," she replied. "I'll be back around four." She stood up and grabbed her sketchpad before blurring out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"Was I just imagining it," Jonathan asked as he walked over to the island, "or did I hear a little frustration in her voice?"

"No, you weren't imagining things," Martha replied as she put the dishes away, "she's just feeling cooped up, that's all."

"I stand by our decision to have her stay in Smallville until all her powers come in," Jonathan said.

"I know, and I'm not disagreeing with you," Martha replied, "but Linda's a teenager; even Clark felt cooped up sometimes when he was her age," she turned around and walked over to her husband, "but she's not going to say anything that might hurt your feelings any more than Clark would."

Jonathan smiled and kissed his wife. "How did you get so smart, Martha Kent?" he asked.

"Just luck, I guess," Martha smiled back. "Now, since our daughter's going to be away for the day, we should be able to get a lot of things done for tonight."

"What do you need me to do?" Jonathan asked, smiling.

(End of Chapter 1)


	2. Chapter 2

Linda sat on a stool and concentrated, mouthing the words of Imagine Dragons' 'Demons' as she worked her fingers through the pile of clay on the pedestal in front of her. The back portion of the former flower shop had been converted into a studio—complete with a kiln for firing her sculptures; she had left the windows intact to allow sunlight to stream through, letting sunlight pour in, giving her a lot of natural lighting for her work.

"'I wanna hide the truth,'" Linda sang softly as she continued kneading the clay, molding it effortlessly, 'I wanna shelter you, but with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide." She started bobbing her head a little as the beat increased. "'When you feel my heat, look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide.'"

"Happy Birthday, Short Stack."

Linda paused and looked up; she saw Clark standing in the doorframe, dressed in civilian clothes, smiling at her. "Hey, Clark," she replied, smiling as her fingers moved smoothly through the cold material. "Thank you. How did you know I was here?"

"Stopped by the farm," Clark answered as he walked over and pulled up a nearby stool; he sat down close to her. "Mom and Dad said you were going to spend the day here."

"They're not mad, are they?" Linda asked.

"Why would they be mad?" Clark asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Linda shrugged. "I know they let me come here," she replied, "but I think they wanted me to stay on the farm…especially Dad."

"They were a little disappointed," Clark replied, "but not mad; they know you have work to do." He heard the soft sigh and saw the expression on his cousin's face. "Linda, I know you're feeling cooped up—I've been there, believe me, I get it—but it won't be forever."

"Clark, I get it," Linda said, trying to keep her voice even, "but it doesn't mean I have to like it." The young girl wanted to say more, to vent her frustrations, but she didn't think it was the time or place; she kept quiet as she pressed her fingers into the clay, molding it.

The reporter knew his cousin wanted to say more, but he fought the urge to push; he knew she would when she was ready. He gave his cousin a sympathetic expression and sighed before glancing back at the mound of clay. "So, what's this going to be?" he asked gently.

"Well, I'm hoping for a zhehiodia," Linda replied.

"Is that a Kryptonian candleholder?" Clark joked.

In spite of things, Linda smiled a little. "It's a type of musical instrument," she answered, "like a mix between a French horn and a bugle, but with extra chambers."

"What did it sound like?" Clark asked, genuinely intrigued.

"I don't know," Linda replied, "but Rok-Var told me once that notes played from it penetrated deep into one's soul—almost as if it was a living entity; that's what zhehiodia means: 'living wind.'"

Clark saw the sadness in her eyes; he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure it must have been a beautiful sound," he said.

Linda looked over and gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," she replied. She turned back to her work and and saw her fingers had bore deep grooves into clay, effectively ruining the piece; she groaned. "Duches."

"Linda," Clark admonished his cousin.

"What?" the young girl asked, annoyed, as she worked the clay into a formless ball. "I wasn't swearing; that wasn't a swear word."

"Uh huh," Clark replied, looking unconvinced.

"It isn't," Linda protested, "I swear; it's a word we had for this tar-like substance on Argo City."

"So, why are you using it like that?" Clark asked, amused, the corners of his mouth turned up a little.

Linda paused and she tilted her hear, trying to remember why she **would** use such a mundane word in that manner. "You know," she said, "I honestly can't remember." The two cousins glanced at each other for a moment, then burst into chuckles. After a few moments, they calmed down.

"Well, I guess I'll head back to the farm so you can work in peace," Clark replied as he got to his feet. "There's a lot to do before tonight, and I know Mom and Dad could use all the help they can get."

"I could help, too," Linda replied, smiling slyly.

"I'm sure you could," Clark said, smiling, "but we are trying to keep **some** birthday surprises for tonight." His family had never been big on birthdays—and he'd personally never had any childhood parties due to his developing abilities—but Clark wanted Linda's first birthday celebration in her new home to be special.

"I could take a mental peek, if I wanted to," Linda teased.

"But you won't," Clark retorted as he gently poked the tip of her nose. "You want to be surprised just as much as we want you to."

"Could I have just a little hint?" Linda pleaded.

"Nope," Clark replied smugly before he grabbed the stool and moved it back to its original spot, putting it down; he came back over and kissed her cheek. "Be back around four, okay?"

"Okay," Linda grinning, as she went back to working on her clay, humming softly along with her music.

 _"_ _But I don't want the pink ones! I want the blue ones!"_

 _"_ _Why does this cost so much?"_

 _"_ _I thought you said you paid the bill."_

 _"_ _I need three lattes, extra whip, no sugar!"_

 _"_ _This roll is a little stale, can I have a muffin, instead?"_

Linda stopped working and looked around, confused. She had distinctly heard a bunch of different voices, but there was no one in the studio with her, not even Clark. The voices quickly grew in volume and number, jumbling together with her music and the sounds of passing cars in a cacophony of noise; the young girl's eyebrows furrowed as the noises continued to intensify, and she could feel—and to her disbelief hear—her heart pounding in her ears. The blaring sound of a horn honking—sounding as if it was right next to her—caused her to shout in pain, and she quickly covered her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Clark!" she cried out.

Clark blurred back into the studio and stopped just inside the door; he looked around, his eyes falling on his cousin. He saw her sitting on her stool, hunched over, her eyes closed and hands covering her ears; he hurried and knelt beside her.

"Linda?" Clark asked, concerned.

"The noise," Linda whimpered. "It's too loud."

"What are you talking about?" Clark asked, confused and a little worried. "The only thing on is your radio, and it's not that loud."

"The voices," Linda continued. "I can hear the voices, the cars, my heart…and why are you shouting?"

"I'm not shouting," Clark said. "I'm talking in a—" He stopped short when the realization hit him. "Oh…."

"What?" Linda asked, the noises becoming more muffed. She carefully opened her eyes and looked up at her cousin; she furrowed her eyebrows, confused as to why he was smiling at her. "Why are you smiling?"

"I think your hearing might be kicking in," Clark replied.

"Now?" Linda asked in disbelief. "It hasn't even been a month since I got super-breath."

Clark shrugged. "I don't know," he replied honestly, "but I think you're going to have to change your plans." Linda sighed, frustrated, and Clark gave her a sympathetic expression as he stood up. "I know, I know, not how you wanted to spend the day." He held out his hand; she reluctantly accepted it, and Clark put an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the studio.

* * *

"I'm not sure this is going to work," Linda said slowly. She stood in the middle of Chandler's Field, looking at the empty pasture covered in a light blanket of snow.

Clark stood next to her, holding two portable radios. "Linda, how many powers have you gotten since you arrived?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"Everything but flying," Linda replied dryly.

"And how many abilities have I helped you control?" Clark continued.

"Everything but super-breath," Linda responded in the same tone, "and flight."

"So, don't you think I **might** know what I'm doing?" Clark asked, amused.

"Honestly, I think it's just been dumb luck this entire time," Linda answered, folding her arms.

"Good to know you still have your sense of humor," Clark smiled. "Now, are you ready to get this thing under control?"

Linda shrugged. "I guess," she said uncertainly.

Clark turned the radios on and cranked up the volume before setting them down next to her feet. He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders, looking her right in the eyes. "I want you to focus on my voice," he said loudly over the rock music blaring from the speakers. "Okay?"

Linda nodded and watched her cousin blur to the other side of the field, about a hundred yards away. He stood near the fence, facing her, and Linda could see his mouth moving, but she couldn't hear anything over the loud music. She started feeling frustrated, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing as she furrowed her eyebrows, focusing. A few moments passed before the loud music seemed to fade into silence as she slowly picked up her cousin's voice.

 _"…do it. Just focus on my voice, Linda. Block everything out, except my voice; make it the only sound in the world. I know you can do it."_

Linda slowly smiled, both pleased and surprised that it actually worked. "Clark, I can hear you," she said.

Clark smiled proudly from his spot. "I knew you could do it," he said, never raising his voice above a soft whisper. "You wanna try again?" He saw Linda nod enthusiastically, and the reporter took a deep breath. "Okay, let's try something a little more challenging."

(End of Chapter 2)


	3. Chapter 3

Candles lit the bathroom in a soft glow, and classical music played on the small radio on the counter. Linda stepped into the hot, lavender-scented water and carefully sat down, leaning against the back of the tub; she closed her eyes, breathing in the flowery aroma as the silky water caressed every inch of her bare skin, thinking back to the past few hours.

It had taken a few hours, but with Clark's guidance, Linda was able to master her new ability: how to turn it on and off at will and block out other noises to prevent interference; by the time they had finished, Linda was in enough control over her hearing that using it was almost second nature to her.

After heading home, Jonathan and Martha were a little shocked to learn their daughter had developed a new power, but relieved to hear that everything appeared to have worked out without any major complications (or without anyone else finding out, as Jonathan had added.) Since Linda's party was still a couple hours away, the young girl was shooed upstairs and told not to come down (and also reminded not to use her x-ray vision, telepathy, and now hearing to eavesdrop) before being called; Linda headed upstairs and had planned on staying in her room, but had decided that taking a relaxing bath would be more enjoyable.

Linda opened her eyes and gently moved her fingers around, watching the ripples forming with a disappointed expression. She loved her family and was grateful for all they had done for her since arriving, but she was still frustrated that they seemed to still treat her like she was incapable of handling herself—despite having her own (successful) business, a whole bunch of chores, abilities she was in control of, and maintaining good grades in school. The young girl inhaled and closed her eyes, holding her breath as she sunk below the surface, feeling herself relax under the soothing water. Without warning, her head exploded with a sharp pain, followed by a flash of intense, white light.

* * *

 _Linda gasped, her heart pounding, as she quickly looked around. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized she was standing once again in the circular room with the silver-blue glass walls and floor; the red sun still shone brightly through the cracked glass ceiling, bathing everything in a deep, crimson hue. Everything still shook, more violently than the last time, and Linda looked down as deep cracks formed around her feet; she furrowed her eyebrows when she saw herself in the same outfit she wore when she'd arrived in Kansas last summer. A large tremor convulsed through the room, knocking the young girl to the floor._

 _The teenager used her hands and feet to push herself off the ground. She looked up when she heard familiar shouting, and she recognized the same two men fighting near her. She stared, astonished, as their features quickly came into focus, no longer silhouettes; she could make out each and every one of their details. She easily recognized the first man as Zor-El, dressed in his familiar black body suit with ornamental shoulder pads, a cruel, sadistic smile on his face._

 _The second man was unknown to Linda, but she reflexively took in every detail she saw. He was slightly taller than herself, wearing a blue body suit and matching boots, with a red, flowing robe over it; his blond hair was short and blood oozed from a wound on his forehead. He glared at her father with piercing blue eyes full of an intense anger that she had never seen before as he clutched a familiar Kryptonian dagger in his hands. Linda saw the symbols on the side of the blade—much clearer than the last time—and she was surprised to see that they read 'House of El.'_

 _"I know what your plans are!" the man shouted to Zor-El as they circled each other. "We all do! You will_ _ **not**_ _succeed!"_

 _"I've already succeeded, you pathetic fool!" Zor-El shouted back. "I've won, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"_

 _The man raised the dagger as he charged her father; he was within a couple of feet when Zor-El expertly maneuvered, grabbed the dagger from the blond man, and then swiftly turned the blade around and plunged it into the man's stomach. The man shouted in pain and tried to pull the knife out, but Zor-El held tight. The man lurched, and Linda saw blood trickling from his mouth as he looked up at Zor-El; her father held the dagger as he quickly pulled it out, and he smiled cruelly as the man crumpled to the floor, blood pouring from his wound._

 _Before Linda could open her mouth to scream, a white flash engulfed her as a jumble of loud shouts filled her head._

* * *

Linda opened her eyes wide and shot into a sitting position, water splashing over the sides of the tub as she gasped for air; her entire body shook as she tried to process what she had just seen. After a few moments, she got out of the tub, stepping onto the terry rug, and grabbed her towel from the nearby hook. She wrapped the towel around her body and crossed the tile floor, to the bathroom sink, water dripping off her hair and body. The young girl stared at her reflection, thinking back to the vision she'd had right before getting shot with that kryptonite bullet. This was the first time she'd had the same vision more than once—and in greater detail—and she was terrified.

She opened her mouth to call for her family, but then she hesitated as she continued staring at the mirror. She knew if she told them, they'd cancel her party—one of the few times where she could have a semblance of something normal—and tell her she couldn't even leave the farm until they figured out what was going on (which might **never** happen); not even Jimmy or Gar or Dick Grayson could be trusted to keep it a secret. Linda closed her mouth, masking her fear with a look of determination.

"Not this time," she said softly before reaching for her comb.

(End of Chapter 3)


	4. Chapter 4

Linda took her time getting dressed, trying every article of clothing in her possession to find just the right outfit. Almost an hour later, she had finally decided on white jeans, black boots, and a black shirt with a large melting clock on it; her hair had been styled into a Dutch braid, and she wore a light hint of make-up and no jewelry. She waited impatiently in her room until Martha came and told her it was time; Linda was tempted to just blur out, but she settled for following her mother instead.

Linda stopped halfway down the stairs when she heard the cacophony of voices and saw what her family had done while she was upstairs: streamers in TARDIS blue and silver hung from the ceiling, along with bunches of blue and silver balloons; the kitchen table was obscured under a small pile of colorfully-wrapped gifts, while the counters were covered with a spread of pizzas, sodas, chips, a vegetable tray and dips were on the counter. Her guests—Clark, Jonathan, and Pete; Jimmy, Lois, Chloe, and Perry; Oliver, Bruce, and Barry; and Dick Grayson, Gar, Dick Malverne, Mattie, Andy, Cutter, Wally, and Buzz—were spread out in the kitchen, talking and laughing. Krypto and Streaky were running around, barking and meowing.

Everyone looked over as Martha came down, and then saw Linda still standing on the stairs. For all the excitement that she'd initially had, the young girl suddenly felt very self-conscious at seeing all the faces staring at her. She was tempted to bolt upstairs, but then her eyes met Jimmy's; he smiled slightly at her, and she relaxed and smiled back before taking a deep breath and heading down the stairs to greet her guests.

"Happy birthday, dear Linda! Happy birthday to you!"

Linda grinned as she stared down at the cake her mother had made for her: a large, two-layer chocolate cake with raspberry jam between the two layers, covered in chocolate frosting, and decorated to look like Van Gough's 'Starry Night' with a TARDIS flying in the sky; sixteen lit candles were positioned around the edge. The young girl waited until everyone had finished singing before she inhaled and carefully blew the candles, extinguishing them in one breath. Martha cut the cake, Jonathan scooped ice cream—homemade raspberry—and everyone enjoyed the dessert before it was time for Linda to open her presents, carefully unwrapping each one.

Bruce and Dick had given her a Lino Tagliapietra glass sculpture that looked exactly like a peacock feather. Pete had bought her a calligraphy kit, while Chloe, Lois, and Perry had chipped in to buy her a set of colorful, interchangeable watch bands. Gar had given her a green and blue lava lamp, while the rest of her friends had pitched in to buy her two mugs, with the words "Paint Water" on one and "Not Paint Water" on the other.

"It was one time," Linda protested, smiling, "and, in fairness, I was distracted."

"We know," Mattie replied, grinning.

"But, in all fairness," Andy added, amused, "we've never known anyone who was distracted enough to mistake her paint water mug for her coffee mug."

Linda shook her head, still smiling, as she finished unwrapping her gifts. Oliver had bought her an Old Holland Classic Oil Colors set with brushes and palette knives, while her parents and Clark had worked together on assembling a homemade pampering gift basket. Barry and his friends had chipped in for their own unique gift basket: a portable, USB-powered terrarium designed to grow Venus Fly traps from Barry, a Dalek gumball machine filled with Skittles from Cisco, a 3D printing pen from Caitlyn, several gift cards to a local pizzeria from Ronnie, and a copy of Professor Stein's report on time travel—which elicited a few odd stares from a few of the guests.

"I'm probably going to regret asking this," Lois looked at Barry, "but why did you give her an astrophysicist's report on time travel?"

Barry's smile faded; he had forgotten that there were some people there not aware of Linda's secret. "Uh, well," he said slowly, stammering, "I, uh, know that, uh," he glanced down at the remnants of the cake, "Linda likes…Doctor Who...and since it's about time travel," his voice gradually increased in pitch, "I thought she might be interested in an actual theory?" He gave Lois his best sheepish grin.

Lois pursed her lips, nodding slightly. "Yeah, okay," she replied slowly, her expression clearly saying 'for a CSI, you're not very observant;' she took a sip of her punch.

Barry briefly glanced at Linda, looking apologetic. [Sorry about that; I should have put it aside.]

[Don't worry about it,] Linda replied as she put all the stuff back in the basket and set it aside. [It was a good save.] She glanced at the last present—knowing it was from Jimmy—and tried not to grin too much. "Last one," she said as she reached for it.

"Uh," Jimmy suddenly spoke up, "could you, uh, maybe open it later?" He realized everyone was looking at him: the adults (except for Bruce) and most of Linda's friends appeared amused; he glanced at Dick Malverne and saw the teenager frowning slightly; the photographer cleared his throat, tying not to feel too self-conscious.

Linda looked at him, confused. [Is everything okay?]

[Yeah, just don't want everyone to see it before you,] Jimmy replied. [Please?]

Linda nodded. "Sure," she replied aloud, setting the gift aside; she saw the grateful look in Jimmy's face and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Well, since Linda appears to be done opening her gifts," Martha spoke up, "and the kids go back to school tomorrow," the teenagers—including Dick Grayson—groaned softly, causing the adults to look amused, "I think it's best if we call it a night."

"And thank you all for coming," Jonathan added, glancing at his daughter expectantly.

"Yes, thanks, guys," Linda replied, smiling. "I had a really great time." It took almost half an hour to say her proper goodbyes to everyone—which included a subtle reminder from Bruce and Oliver to get started on their art pieces; Linda raised an eyebrow, but nodded and said they'd be ready soon, trying to hide the annoyance in her voice. After everyone had left, the four Kents started cleaning up.

"So, did you have a good party?" Clark asked Linda as he helped her pick up the trash while Jonathan and Martha put away the leftover food.

"I did," Linda answered sincerely. "Thank you," she looked at her adoptive parents, "all of you."

"You are quite welcome, sweetie," Jonathan smiled.

"So, are you gonna finally open Jimmy's gift?" Clark teased.

"He doesn't want anyone to see it before me," Linda replied, smiling, "so I'm going to respect his wishes."

"I could peek," Clark jokingly threatened.

"Don't you dare," Linda replied, smiling, before looking back at her parents. "Can I take my stuff go upstairs and get ready for bed?"

"Sure," Martha replied.

Linda grinned with excitement as she grabbed a couple of her gifts and blurred upstairs, coming down a second later. She made the same trip several times until all her gifts were in her room, then she returned to say goodnight to her family, kissing their cheeks and thanking them once more before heading upstairs a final time.

"I think we really made her night," Clark replied as he and his parents continued cleaning. "Thanks for doing this, guys; I know it meant a lot to Linda."

"Well, after everything she's been through," Jonathan replied, "I think bending our 'no party' rule was acceptable." He saw the expression on his son's face and raised an eyebrow. "Clark, you okay?"

Clark shrugged. "Yeah," he replied. "I mean, I know you guys had good reasons for not having parties when I was younger—and I have to admit I'm a little envious—but I'm not upset; seeing Linda smile makes up for it."

Jonathan and Martha glanced at each other, knowing their son was telling the truth; they smiled at each other before picking up where they'd left off.

* * *

After putting all her gifts carefully on her dresser or wherever she could find room for them, Linda took a few seconds to get her things ready for school and then change into her pajamas—a simple blue tank-top and gray pajama pants—before grabbing Jimmy's unwrapped gift and hopping excitedly onto her bed; she carefully unwrapped the package and saw a jewelry box inside. Linda pulled the top off and gasped slightly.

Inside was a retro gold bangle bracelet covered with red gemstones set in the center of five-point stars; the jewels caught the dim light of her lamp and glistened in a strange, almost hypnotic, fashion. Linda slowly smiled, touched, as she took the bracelet and slipped it on her right wrist.

A wave of intoxicating euphoria immediately spread from her wrist and up her arm to the rest of her body, causing the young girl to inhale sharply, closing her eyes as her face contorted into an expression of pure ecstasy. The feeling was intense, and she leaned against her headboard, giving a soft moan as the guilt, sorrow, regret, stress, and fear plaguing her thoughts melted into oblivion; the sensation quickly ended, and Linda slowly opened her eyes. Her world appeared to be bathed in a deep red hue, but everything returned to normal when she blinked; a slow smile spread over the young girl's face.

"Whoa," she said quietly.

(End of Chapter 4)


	5. Chapter 5

It was after midnight, and Main Street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps. The buildings were cloaked in shadows, a total contrast to the bright colors and hues that filled the busy street during the day. A dark figure suddenly appeared, blurring quietly down the street, kicking up dust and debris in its wake; the figure stopped a hundred yards away from the Smallville Savings and Loan, taking care to avoid the view of the security cameras.

The figure stared at the building for a few moments, a plan quickly formulating, before blurring toward the building at full speed. It smashed through the door and walls, sending glass and wood in all directions, and the alarms blared loudly, shattering the quiet; few seconds passed before the figure blurred away, heading east.

* * *

The sun shone brightly the following morning as Jonathan worked on his chores out in the barn, while Martha prepared breakfast in the kitchen. She had just finished calling her daughter—for the third time—and sighed; Linda was going to be late if she didn't get moving.

"Linda!" she called again, her voice a little louder, "you're going to be late for school!"

"I'm coming!" Linda replied with annoyance.

Martha ignored the tone, chalking it up to Linda not wanting to go back to school, as she picked up a plate with waffles, bacon, and eggs. "I have break—" a blur streaked down the stairs and out the kitchen door, "—fast waiting...," Martha sighed, "for you." She sighed and shrugged before putting the plate on the counter and started cleaning up.

Jonathan came in a few moments later, carrying the morning paper and whistling a tune. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said cheerfully as he walked over and kissed his wife.

"Hi," Martha replied as she grabbed his cow mug and poured fresh coffee in it.

"Thank you," he said and started preparing his coffee with honey. "I saw Linda tear out of here. Everything okay?"

"I think so," Martha answered, "though I'm not sure she's thrilled to be going back to school."

"Name a teenager who is," Jonathan chuckled as he took his coffee and paper over to the table and settled in; he opened the paper, and his smile faded when he saw the headline. "Martha."

"What is it?" Martha asked, looking over.

Jonathan held up the front page so his wife could see it. The top headline read 'Double Whammy' in bold, black letters, with 'Queen Industries, Savings and Loan Attacked' in smaller letters. Below both headlines were two color pictures side by side: one was of the destroyed front of the Smallville Savings and Loan building, and the other showed the administrative building at Oliver's plant; a large tractor appeared to have been smashed through the upper levels, almost as if it had been thrown there.

* * *

Mattie, Andy, Dick, and Buzz stood in front of Linda's locker, laughing and talking with each other as they waited for their friend to show up. A wolf whistle echoed loudly down the corridor, and everyone looked over, seeing a crowd forming. The group craned their necks to try and see what was causing the commotion, then some of the students moved out of the way; all four friends' eyes widened in shock.

Linda strolled down the hall, wearing a black, loose knit, short-sleeved jumper, **very** short distressed black denim shorts, and black stiletto heels; a black biker jacket was draped over her shoulders, a pair of sunglasses covered her eyes, and she still had the gold bracelet on her right wrist. As she approached her friends, they could tell she was wearing a lot of make-up, including deep crimson lipstick. She gave a seductive smile to the guys she passed, who all returned the smile as they enjoyed both the front and back views.

"Hi, guys," the young girl said as she stopped in front of her friends.

"What is wrong with this picture?" Andy asked slowly.

Linda smiled and removed her glasses, her eyes painted with dark, heavy make-up. "What do you mean?" she asked. She glanced at Dick with a seductive expression. "Hey, Dick, long time no see." Dick shifted uncomfortably as he cleared his throat, glancing at Buzz.

"What she means," Mattie spoke up, "is that you got a style that works, and this," she waved her hand, indicating Linda's attire, "is **definitely** not one of them."

Linda turned to Mattie, frowning. "Did I **ask** for your opinion?" she snapped. Mattie was so startled she actually took a step back; Dick, Andy, and Buzz looked just as stunned.

"No," Mattie replied softly, finding her voice. "I was just—"

"Then shut up," Linda interrupted, glaring at her friends before sauntering away; she didn't see Mattie, on the verge of tears, walk in the opposite direction with Andy following close behind. She smiled when she caught sight of Gar walking toward her, his backpack slung over his shoulders; he stopped short when he saw Linda walking over to him, smiling. "Hey, Gar."

"Linda?" Gar said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"So, you wanna ditch class and go have some fun?" Linda asked. "I've been itching to stretch my legs, have another race," she gave him a flirtatious smirk, dropping her voice, "though if I found you more attractive, you and I could stretch our legs in a different manner."

Gar's eyes widened, blushing at her extreme display of candor. "Uh," he said slowly, sputtering a bit.

Linda chuckled a little and patted her cheek. "Don't worry," she replied, "there are other fish in the sea I have my eye on, but," she stood on her toes, "if you ever have an itch that needs scratching," she gave him a quick peck on the lips, "I might be willing to scratch it." She brushed past him, leaving him stunned as he watched her walk away.

"Did Linda really just kiss you?" Dick asked as he and Buzz approached.

"Okay, great, that actually happened," Gar muttered, still embarrassed. "I was hoping this was all just some weird dream," he saw Dick give him a hard expression, and Gar swallowed nervously, "not that I fantasize about her; I don't think about Linda like that, I swear."

"We know," Buzz replied quickly as Dick opened his mouth to respond, stopping his friend from making a sarcastic response.

"So, you wanna tell me who that girl was," Gar asked, "and what she did with Linda?"

"Not a clue," Dick replied as he and his friends looked down the hall with concern.

(End of Chapter 5)


	6. Chapter 6

While his deputies and other investigators combed the area, looking for Pete stared up at the damaged building, surveying the destruction: broken glass, paper, office equipment, and other debris littered the ground around the building, with the large tractor still wedged into the side of the structure. It appeared as if a tornado had caused the damage, but after spending the past few hours at the Smallville Savings and Loan—or what was left of it—the sheriff knew that this was more than a natural disaster: broken glass and debris littered the lobby, and the vault door—with a thickness of six inches—had been embedded in the far wall; it would take days, if not weeks, for the bank to reopen, and Pete was beginning to think the same fate awaited Oliver Queen's factory.

The sound of a car caused Pete to look over as a familiar black Mercedes-Benz SL approached from the entrance road. Oliver Queen parked his car nearby and turned the engine off before stepping out; the entrepreneur wore a black t-shirt under a matching leather jacket, jeans, and biker boots; he glanced at the damage to his building, raising an eyebrow, as he approached Pete and shook the sheriff's hand.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon after last night," Pete said, "but thanks for coming out."

"Any idea who—or what—did this?" Oliver asked as he looked back up at the damage.

"Someone who's obviously been eating their vegetables," Pete replied, "other than that, not a clue." He glanced at the businessman. "Know of any really strong meta-humans you pissed off recently?"

"With or without my bow and arrow?" Oliver asked wryly, his voice low. Pete gave him a look, but didn't say anything. "So, I heard the Smallville Savings and Loan was also hit pretty bad."

"Yeah, spent most of my morning dealing with the Feds," Pete muttered, "and talking with the manager; he was a nervous wreck dealing with the FDIC."

"Yeah, well, anyone would be after having their business destroyed and being cleaned out of nine million dollars," Oliver replied.

Pete gave him a quizzical expression. "How did you know how much money was taken?" he asked. "We only got that information ourselves recently." He paused, then furrowed his eyebrows. "You had the bank under surveillance."

"It was Bruce's idea," Oliver replied.

"Why?" Pete asked.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way," Oliver answered, "but Linda deposited nine million dollars into a small town bank with minimal security. Word gets around very quickly when stuff like that happens, so Bruce and I—mainly Bruce—felt it was necessary as Linda's employers to provide additional security measures to protect her finances—which, in turn, protects our investments."

"You do realize that's a felony, right?" Pete asked. Oliver shrugged, but didn't say anything. "Does Clark know?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, and Pete sighed, closing his eyes. "Under any other circumstances, I'd be getting Clark on speed-dial right now, but I need some information from you; you said you had the place under surveillance."

"Operative word being 'had,'" Oliver replied. "I looked at the surveillance data on Main Street right before the alarms went off. Systems registered an EMP-like pulse a few seconds before the alarms sounded.

"Anything on the video feed?" Pete asked.

Oliver shook his head. "The pulse shorted out every camera in the building and surrounding area," he explained. "Same here...as well as at one of Bruce's facilities in Gotham and one of Lex's in Metropolis."

Pete furrowed his eyebrows. "When did those happen?" he inquired.

"Well, according to what we gathered," Oliver replied, " the bank was shortly after midnight, my plant was hit around twelve-thirty, Bruce's at one, and Lex's at one-thirty."

Pete whistled. "Damn," he said. "So, any theories?"

"Well, we thought Lex was involved," Oliver answered.

"And had one of his own facilities hit so he'd look innocent," Pete nodding.

"But," Oliver continued, "Bruce found some evidence to show that Lex is just as in the dark as we are."

"So, we're back to square one," Pete said, trying not to look too disappointed at Lex's innocence; he sighed and looked back at the damage. "So, what do you think? Coordinated attack?"

"Sheriff Ross?"

Both men looked over at the sound of the higher-pitched voice and saw dark skinned woman and brown-haired man approaching. The woman wore a winter jacket, simple tan slacks, black shirt, and matching black books; her police badge hooked on her waistband, and the police-issued firearm was visible under her jacket. The man dressed as if he had just stepped out of an old detective movie: brown business suit, loose tie, and a long trench coat; brown hair was visible underneath a fedora, and he appeared to be sneering slightly at both Oliver and Pete.

"Captain Maggie Sawyer, S.C.U.," the woman said. "My partner, Inspector Dan Turpin. We'd like to have a word with you, Sheriff," she glanced briefly at Oliver, "and you, too, Mr. Queen."

"So, why is the S.C.U. getting involved?" Oliver asked, feigning ignorance. "This isn't exactly Metropolis."

"Mr. Queen," Sawyer answered, her voice a little condescending, "I can appreciate the effort it takes to run a multi-international business worth billions, but I'm pretty certain that having a large piece of farm equipment thrown through the upper levels of one of your administrative buildings doesn't fall into the realm of what you would consider a common workplace incidence."

"So, what," Pete asked, "you think a meta-human did this damage?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't John Deere," Turpin snarked.

"Dan," Sawyer warned her partner before looking back at Pete and Oliver. "Gentlemen, we have reason to believe that the damage caused to both the Savings and Loan and Mr. Queen's facility is connected to similar incidences at one of Lex Luthor's facilities in Metropolis and Bruce Wayne's in Gotham. Can either of you think of any reason why someone—or multiple someones—would target these areas?"

Oliver shrugged. "Honestly, Captain, no," he replied. "I mean, I know Bruce, Lex, and I have many enemies because of our businesses and contacts, but as for the 'who,' 'why,' and 'how' I can't narrow anything down for you at the moment."

"What about Linda Kent?" Sawyer asked. She saw the brief glance between the two men but didn't respond.

"What about her?" Pete asked, trying to sound casual.

"Well, she is your employee, isn't she, Mr. Queen?" Sawyer asked. "Yours and Mr. Wayne's; it's a joint employment, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right," Oliver replied cautiously. "Why do you ask?"

"You and Mr. Wayne not only recently hired her," Sawyer continued, "but the two of you were in a bit of a bidding war with Mr. Luthor concerning her employment; after hiring you, you also purchased property in town to start her own business and purchased all of her pieces for ten million dollars."

"And the money was deposited in the Savings and Loan," Turpin added. "She made a withdrawal shortly before Christmas—"

"That was a present to her folks," Pete interrupted protectively, "so they wouldn't have to worry about finances."

"And it was withdrawn by her cousin," Oliver added with a little more edge in his voice, "with Bruce's and my knowledge, so if you're trying to find a ulterior motive there, you won't."

"Mr. Queen" Sawyer said, "if you're implying that we think Miss Kent or her parents were involved in these incidences, please give us a little more credit, but we are curious: does Miss Kent know her money was stolen?"

"Not yet," Pete answered. "She's in school right now, and I was planning to stop by the Kent farm after wrapping up my investigation here," he glanced between the two officers, "and, if you don't mind, this is still my jurisdiction, so I'll be the one to tell the Kents. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have an investigation to continue; I'll be sure to send you a report when I finish."

Sawyer glanced between the two men; while she didn't care too much for the attitudes from either men, she could respect the obvious protectiveness they both had for someone they cared about. "Please see that you do," she replied. "Dan, let's go." Turpin narrowed his eyes briefly before he and Sawyer left the two.

"So, what do you think?" Pete asked, his voice low, as he and Oliver kept their eyes on the officers.

"Not sure," Oliver replied, "but I think you might want to get over to the Kents before those two get any ideas."

"Linda's not gonna be happy," Pete muttered. "Maybe **you** should come with me to soften the blow." Oliver shrugged, but looked a little amused at the thought of a grown man scared of a teenage girl; he sighed as Pete went back to work, leaving the businessman to just stare up at the damage to his building, trying to figure out exactly what had happened.

(End of Chapter 6)


	7. Chapter 7

"So, you think she's sick or something?" Dick asked as he leaned against the filing cabinets in the Torch office while Cutter and Wally worked at their computers.

"In a little over twelve hours," Wally replied, "Linda went from farm girl conservative to that fashion disaster we saw in the hall."

"Not to mention her behavior," Cutter added. "The way she acted, especially snapping at Mattie and flirting with Gar," he glanced briefly at Dick, "and you." Dick shifted, embarrassed, as his cheeks grew warm, "not to mention skipping her classes."

"Or maybe she's just reacting to losing all her money," Wally said, holding up the latest edition of the Torch, showing a big bold headline about the attacks at the Savings and Loan and Oliver's plant.

"Still doesn't explain where she got that outfit," Dick said. "There's no way her folks would've allowed her to get those clothes, regardless." He sighed. "Look, in all honestly, Linda doesn't seem the type to react like that to losing **any** amount of money—and she certainly didn't **look** sick."

"And you, of all people, know you don't have to **look** sick to **be** sick," Cutter said, fixing him with a look. Dick narrowed his eyes briefly, and Cutter quickly looked back at his screen.

"Hey, guys, what about this?" Wally spoke up. Cutter and Dick walked over to Wally's side and leaned over. On the computer screen was an old Torch article written by Chloe from over ten years ago; a photo of a large yellow flower caught their attention.

"What is it?" Dick asked.

"The Nicodemus flower," Wally answered, reading. "Says eleven years ago a strange flower caused erratic behavior to those who were exposed."

"Yeah, but it's extinct," Cutter pointed out, reading further. "Says all the seeds and plants were destroyed after the last incident—and there's been no recorded events since, so no way Linda could have been exposed."

"What about a cave parasite?" Wally asked, bringing up another article. "Again, I know it's been years since there's been any reported incidences, but maybe there're some still in the caves; it would explain Linda's behavior."

"And Linda hasn't been in the caves since the cave-in," Dick replied, "and those parasite things act almost immediately."

Cutter sighed with frustration. "Well, maybe she's started experimenting with drugs," he said sarcastically, "I don't know." He glanced at Dick, who appeared worried—and was trying hard to hide it. "I don't think she's on drugs, okay?" Dick didn't look convinced, and Cutter patted his shoulder. "Look, man, it's lunch; why don't we get something to eat, see how the others are doing, okay?"

"You guys go," Dick replied as he walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning forward, his hands on his heard. "I'm not hungry."

Wally glanced at Cutter, who just shook his head; Wally got up and followed Cutter out of the office, leaving their friend alone. Dick sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Dick opened his eyes and looked over as he recognized the voice. Linda stood in the doorway, still dressed in her black outfit, smirking at him; Dick quickly got to his feet. "Where've you been?"

"Around," Linda answered dismissively as she slinked into the room, running her hands lightly over the desks as she approached him.

"What is going on with you?" Dick asked.

"What do you mean?" Linda retorted.

"This," Dick replied, his tone a mixture between worry and frustration. "The clothes, the way you treated Mattie and Gar earlier, skipping your classes…."

"Everyone's entitled to having a little fun every once in a while," Linda said.

"Yeah, why don't I believe that," Dick replied, unconvinced. "Look, Linda, this isn't you."

"And you know that because?" Linda asked, folding her arms.

"Because you're my friend," Dick answered, putting his hands on her shoulders, "and I know you."

"Not as well as you could," Linda replied, "but we can quickly fix that." Before Dick could respond, Linda grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close, forcefully kissing him. Dick let out a muffled squeak as he struggled, trying to pull back, but Linda held tight, kissing him deeper. After a few moments, Linda slowly pulled away, still holding onto his shirt, smiling at Dick's stunned reaction.

"What was that?" Dick asked, gasping as he stared at her in disbelief.

"Come on, Dick," Linda said, "I know how you feel about me." She moved close and kissed him again, but Dick quickly turned his head; Linda sighed, slightly annoyed. "Come on, Dick. I've seen the way you look at me—I know what you want." She put her hand on his cheek and gently turned his face toward her. "Just kiss me." She leaned toward him, brushing her lips against his, kissing him softly.

Dick started pulling away, but he paused as he felt Linda's lips against his, her tongue invading his mouth. He closed his eyes and slowly wrapped his arms around her, his thoughts blurring together; he couldn't even remember why he'd been upset earlier as he pulled her close, deepening the kiss.

"See?" Linda said softly against his mouth. "This is nice, isn't it?"

"Mmmm hmmmm," Dick mumbled.

"Wanna move this to the couch?" Linda asked, smiling, as she slowly moved her hands down his chest.

Dick's eyes flew open in shock as he pulled back a little. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You, me, and the couch," Linda answered. "Shouldn't take more than a few minutes?" Dick furrowed his eyebrows as he extracted himself from Linda's grip; Linda sighed, annoyed. "What?"

"I can't do this," Dick replied, before taking a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look, it's not that I didn't enjoy that kiss—because I **really** did—but…this is wrong."

"So," Linda said, tilting her head, crossing her arms, "you've been fantasizing about kissing me for months, and when I finally do, you say it's wrong?"

"Because you're sick," Dick protested. "I don't know with what, but I **do** know that this is not the Linda I know—and it's definitely not the Linda I want."

Linda pursed his lips. "Well, if that's the case," she said after a few moments, "then I'm just going to find someone who does." She turned to leave and stopped when she saw Gar standing in the doorway, furrowing his eyebrows; she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Great, another killjoy. I'm outta here." She sauntered out of the office, brushing past Gar and heading down the hall.

Gar stared at his friend in disbelief before glancing back at Dick. "What was that?" he asked.

"Hell if I know," Dick muttered, looking embarrassed and hurt as he stormed out of the other office door, leaving Gar by himself with a worried expression on his face.

(End of Chapter 7)


	8. Chapter 8

"So, what do we do?" Jonathan asked as he sat at the kitchen table with Martha, Pete, and Oliver; Krypto and Streaky were playing under the table, wrestling with each other.

"Well, Bruce and I have already discussed this," Oliver answered, "and we'll make sure Linda gets her money back—either by finding the people who did this, or we'll reimburse her for her loss."

"I know she'll appreciate that, Oliver," Martha replied.

"So, you have no idea who or what did this?" Jonathan asked.

"Not really," Oliver answered. "Like I said earlier, we really don't have much to go on: the people who did this are really strong, fast, and have some kind of device that emits and channels electromagnetic pulses; we think it's some kind of militant group or someone with a beef against big business," he shrugged, "or a meta-human, either acting alone or with others—and Linda just got caught in the middle. Bruce is compiling a list of known meta-humans with the means and motive to do something like this; he'll let me know what he finds, so we can take care of this as soon as possible."

"Hopefully before the S.C.U. starts poking their noses into everyone's business," Pete muttered. He knew Sawyer and Turpin had jobs to do, but he didn't like the idea of them getting nosy in his town; he wasn't going to rest until he knew for certain they wouldn't be bothering his friends.

"Well, I'm just glad whoever did this didn't go after Linda's gallery," Martha said. "She would have been devastated."

"Excuse me?"

Everyone looked over as Gar stood on the porch, peering in through the open screen door. Martha and Jonathan glanced at each other, confused, before Martha stood up and crossed the kitchen to open the door. "Gar, shouldn't you be in school?" she asked.

"Yeah," Gar replied as he came in, "but something's come up, and I needed to talk to you; it's about Linda." He followed Martha over to the table; he spotted Oliver and furrowed his eyebrows, confused. "Am I interrupting something?"

"We'll discuss that later," Jonathan replied as he stood up; Oliver and Pete followed. "What's wrong with Linda?"

"To be honest, I don't know," Gar said. "I mean, she came to school wearing clothes that I know you would **never** let her wear, she snapped at Mattie," he shifted uncomfortably, "and she kissed me and tried making out with Dick Malverne." She saw the surprised expressions on the Kents' faces and the slightly amused expression on Oliver's face. "She also skipped her morning classes."

"Well, she seemed to be in a sour mood this morning," Martha replied, concerned. "She sped out of here without talking to either of us." She looked at Jonathan, Pete, and Oliver. "Is there any possibility Linda already knows her money's been stolen—and this is how she's reacting?"

"Close, but no cigar."

Everyone looked over as Linda walked inside, her heels clacking softly against the hardwood floor; she stopped in front of the island and faced the group with a slightly annoyed expression.

"Linda, did you go to school like that?" Martha asked, visibly shocked at her daughter's attire; she didn't have to look at the others to know they had the same expressions on their faces.

"Yep," Linda answered, folding her arms as she glanced at Gar. "So, you're tattling on me now, Gar?"

"Linda, there's something wrong with you," Gar replied.

"So, because I decide to try a new style," Linda replied, annoyed, "something **must** be wrong with me."

Jonathan stared at his daughter, confused and concerned. "Linda, what is—" His gaze fell on the gold bracelet on her wrist, the red stones glinting in the sunlight; he felt the color drain from his face as his stomach turned to ice. "Linda, where did you get that bracelet?" The others appeared confused when they saw the farmer's expression; they glanced at the young girl's wrist—and everyone but Gar suddenly knew why Jonathan looked so scared.

"No," Martha whispered.

"Not that it's really any of your business," Linda glared at Jonathan, "but Jimmy gave this to me last night."

Gar glanced between his friend and the adults, confused. "What's going on?" he asked slowly.

"Probably jealous," Linda replied, admiring the bracelet, "not that I can blame them; I mean, Jimmy **really** did a great job." She paused and tilted her head as she glanced at her adoptive parents. "Or maybe it's something else." She stared at Jonathan for a few moments, scanning his mind, before chuckling mirthlessly. "So, six months of telling me I'm part of this family, and you couldn't even bother telling me about red kryptonite?"

Linda saw moment out of her peripheral visions and quickly looked over to see Oliver slowly edging toward the hallway; she didn't have to read his mind to know he was trying to go for the stash of kryptonite in the closest. She squinted ever so slightly and her eyes flashed orange before two heat beams shot out; they barely missed Oliver as they singed the wall, leaving deep scorch marks. The businessman stopped in his tracks as he looked back at the young girl, who stared coldly back at him.

"There are twenty five-hundred nerve endings per square centimeter in your hand," she said to the businessman, her tone low and cold. "Try that again, and you'll find out what it feels like when I burn every single one of them." Oliver didn't say anything as he slowly moved back to where he'd been standing, keeping his hands where Linda could see them.

"Linda, stop this," Jonathan said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Stop telling me what to do!" Linda shouted as she pounded her fist down on the wood island; everyone flinched at the booming sound, the structure cracking, sending objects crashing to the floor.

"Linda, please, this isn't you," Martha pleaded. "That's the kryptonite talking; it's making you feel this way."

"I know," Linda replied, eerily calm. "For the first time since I've arrived, I don't feel guilty or scared or worried. I can do whatever I want—and no one can stop me."

"And, yet, the only things you've done so far are throw vehicles into buildings," Oliver replied dryly, "and steal your own money from a bank." Everyone looked over at him in disbelief at his tone and demeanor. "You're pissed off at everyone, and you want the whole world to know it. Congratulations, Linda, you're a teenager."

"One who could easily snap you like a toothpick," Linda retorted. Oliver continued walking toward her, and Linda clenched her fists. "Don't come any closer."

Oliver ignored her as he stopped in front of her, looking at her with no sign of fear or anger in his eyes. "Look, whatever's bothering you, we can work it out; you don't have to scare the people who care about you to get our attention." He shrugged. "Besides, the Linda I know wouldn't let a dumb rock get the best of her; she's stronger than that." Suddenly, he lunged for the bracelet, but Linda swiftly grabbed him around the neck with her left hand and hoisted him off the ground; her fingernails dug into his skin, drawing blood.

"You almost had me going there," the young girl said, her voice low; she smiled cruelly as she watched him struggling against her grip, trying to pry her fingers from his throat. She heard a clicking sound and turned to see Pete with his weapon drawn and aimed right at her.

"Put him down, Linda," he warned firmly.

Linda stared at him, amused. "How did you get to be the sheriff again, Pete?" she asked before thrusting her free hand out. Pete went flying backwards, the gun knocked from his hands as he slammed into the far wall. He fell to the floor as pictures and furniture smashed around him; he groaned in pain as he lay on the floor. The young girl glanced at her parents and Gar as they hurried over to help Pete before she looked back at Oliver.

"Not so tough without your quiver, are you, Ollie?" she asked before tossing him aside like a rag doll. Oliver flew through the air and slammed into the fridge, crashing to the floor as objects rained down on him; he groaned in pain, barely conscious.

A loud roar resonated through the entire house, and Linda turned to see a large Kodiak bear right behind her; before she could react, the bear raised one of its large paws, backhanding the teenage girl in the face. Linda flew backward, crashing through the kitchen door and wall, wood splintering in all directions. She landed on the dirt, tumbling across the yard, smashing through the fence; she crashed into the side of the red truck, denting it, causing it to rock from side to side.

Linda groaned as she slowly sat up; she wasn't in pain, just frustrated that she had been caught off guard so easily. She looked over and saw the bear charging out of the house at her at full speed, and the young girl narrowed her eyes and set her jaw as she stood up. She didn't flinch or even blink as the large animal launched itself into the air, claws and teeth quickly visible; the teenager pulled back her clenched fist and let it fly, hitting the bear in the side of the head. The animal bellowed in pain and crumpled to the ground, groaning softly; immediately, the bear reverted back to Gar, who lay, unconscious at Linda's feet as she stared down at him with a cold expression on her face.

"Don't ever do that again," she said, "or next time I won't hold back."

Inside the damaged house, Jonathan knelt beside Pete—who had just regained consciousness—and helped him into a sitting position. Martha knelt beside Oliver, wiping blood from the large gash on his forehead as he leaned against the refrigerator; they looked over as Linda blurred in and stopped near what was left of the wall, tensing, unsure what the young girl was going to do next.

"I knew it," she said. "You say you care about me, but that's a lie; you're all scared of me—just like Bruce and the rest of the League."

"That's not true, Linda," Martha replied. "We've never been scared of you; you're our daughter, and we love you."

"Tell Clark and the others if they think they're strong enough to stop me," Linda spoke to Oliver, ignoring her mother, "they're more than welcome to try—but I'll be ready for them if they do." She blurred up the stairs and returned almost immediately with two large duffle bags. "Until then, I'm gonna go have some fun." She ran out of the house at full speed.

"Okay, so that didn't go exactly as planned," Oliver groaned as he slowly got to his feet, holding Martha's towel against his head.

"With all due respect, Oliver," Jonathan replied as he helped Pete into a nearby chair, "Linda's on red kryptonite; what did you think was going to happen when you tried to trick her like that?"

"Would someone mind filling me in on what's going on?" Gar mumbled softly as he slowly walked in, rubbing his deeply-bruised jaw; his normally bright eyes appeared dull and full of disbelief. "What's wrong with Linda?" Martha and Jonathan hurried over to the teenager and supported him as they helped him over to another chair; he winced as he slowly sat down. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop her."

"It's not your fault, Gar," Jonathan said as Martha went to get an ice pack; she returned and gently pressed it against Gar's face. "You did everything you could."

"What's red kryptonite?" Gar asked. "I thought there was only the green stuff." He saw Jonathan and Martha glance at each other, and the teenager knew from personal experience with his own parents that he wasn't going to get a straight answer—at least, not at the moment.

"I'll call Clark," Jonathan said as he crossed the room to the phone.

(End of Chapter 8)


	9. Chapter 9

Clark sat at his desk, typing on his keyboard, pulling up video feed of the overnight attacks, coupled with photos of the scenes, trying to see if he could help figure what was going on; the reporter furrowed his eyebrows as he took in every detail.

"If you keep that up, you're going to burn holes right through the monitor."

Clark glanced up and saw Lois approaching, smiling, amused, before leaning over and kissing his cheek; the reporter smiled briefly. "Just trying to make sense of this," he said, "but the theories I do have don't."

"Well," Lois said as she sat on the corner of his desk, "let's look at what we **do** know: Bruce, Oliver, and Lex all had their facilities attacked last night in the span of one hour—after the Smallville Savings and Loan was destroyed and Linda went from riches to rags during that time."

"Yeah, she's having to brush up on panhandling again," Clark replied, amused.

Lois gave him a look. "You know what I mean, Clark," she replied, trying hard not to smile. "So, how's she taking that?"

"Well, not sure," Clark answered. "I mean, Oliver called me from the farm about twenty minutes ago and told my parents what had happened, but given two of Linda's friends work for the school paper, I'm sure Linda probably knows by now what happened."

"I'm sure that's gotta be rough," Lois said, "losing that much money so quickly."

"Well, Oliver said he said he and Bruce will reimburse her, so I'm not to concerned about that," Clark replied.

"Clark, you don't think Linda might be connected to the whole thing?" Lois asked. "I mean, I know Bruce and Oliver hired her, which pissed off Lex, so maybe he's arranged these attacks as a bit of revenge because he didn't get what he wanted."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Clark replied, "but from what Oliver told me, Lex is just as in the dark about everything."

"Yeah, he would say that," Lois muttered before taking a deep breath. "You know, I never did ask this, but why was Lex so eager to hire your cousin in the first place?"

"Because she's young and talented," Clark answered bluntly, "and Lex has an ego, and he sees Linda as a means to an end to further his own agenda—whatever that is."

"And that sounded really creepy the way you phrased it," Lois replied, her face contorting briefly.

"Can we change the subject, please?" Clark asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Lois apologized before taking a deep breath. "So, does Superman have any leads on these attacks?"

"He's just as in the dark as we are," Clark replied honestly. His phone rang, and he reached for it. "Clark Kent."

"Clark," Jonathan said.

Clark furrowed his eyebrows when he heard the fear in his father's voice. "Dad, what's wrong?" he asked.

"It's Linda," Jonathan answered. "She's been infected with red kryptonite."

Clark felt his blood freeze as his stomach clenched; he glanced at Lois, who looked concerned. "Dad, hold on," he said before covering the mouthpiece. "Lois, can you give me a second?"

"Yeah, sure," Lois replied as she stood up.

"Lane, my office!" Perry's voice bellowed from his open door.

"Perfect timing," Lois said softly before kissing Clark's cheek. "Keep me posted." She quickly headed off to see her boss.

Clark uncovered the mouthpiece. "Dad, what do you mean she's infected?" he asked softly.

"The birthday present Jimmy gave her," Jonathan replied. "It's a gold bracelet with red jewels in it—I'm guessing he thought they were rubies or something."

"Okay, she must've put it on last night," Clark said, thinking back to the times he'd been infected, doing some quick mental calculations, "which means she's had it on for less than a day." He calmed down a little. "That's **some** good news."

"Clark, Linda's responsible for the attacks on Bruce's, Oliver's, and Lex's facilities," Jonathan said bluntly, "and stealing her money from the Savings and Loans."

Clark furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. "Linda did that?" he asked softly.

"I'm afraid so," Jonathan answered.

"Where is she now?" Clark asked.

"We don't know," Jonathan replied. "She bolted from the house after we confronted her."

"I'll be right out," Clark said before hanging up. He scoured the newsroom and spotted Chloe near the coffee machine; the reporter quickly hurried over. "Chloe, we need to talk."

Chloe saw the expression on her friend's face and immediately knew it was serious; she followed him to the stairwell door, away from prying ears. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Linda," Clark explained. "She's been infected with red kryptonite."

The color drained from Chloe's face. "How?"

"Jimmy's birthday present," Clark explained. "Apparently, it had red kryptonite in it." He paused, looking troubled.

"Clark, what is it?" Chloe asked.

"Linda's responsible for the attacks on Bruce's, Oliver's, and Lex's factories," Clark answered. "She's also the one who stole the nine million from the Savings and Loan."

Chloe raised her eyebrows. "Linda did all that?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Clark replied. "Look, I gotta go find her before she does anything else; if Perry or Lois ask, tell them," he racked his brain, "tell them Linda's having a bad reaction to some medicine and I went to Smallville to make sure she's okay." He opened the stairwell door and walked inside.

"And what about Jimmy?" Chloe asked. "He'll know that's not true, and he's going to freak out if he knows something's wrong with Linda and I don't tell him what."

"And if you tell him that his first birthday present to her caused her to behave like this," Clark countered, "he's gonna freak out even more." He paused before taking a deep breath. "Tell him I'll talk to him later, after I deal with Linda." He hurried up the stairs, tugging at his tie, leaving Chloe to watch him with concern.

* * *

Superman stared in disbelief as he landed in front of the damaged scalloped fence; his eyes widened as he followed the furrow in the ground toward the house, seeing smashed glass and splintered wood littering the yard and porch—and the large, gaping hole of what was left of the kitchen wall; his heart pounding, he blurred into the house.

"Mom, Dad?" the hero asked as he did his best to ignore the sound of glass crunching under his boots; he stopped short when he saw Pete, Oliver, and Gar sitting on chairs around the kitchen table as his parents tended to their injuries. Pete and Oliver both had scratches and bruises on their faces, and Superman noticed the five deep bruises with dried blood on Oliver's neck. Gar held a large bag of ice to the side of his face, trying to hide the large bruise underneath it; he stared at the table, looking despondent.

"Clark," Martha said, looking relieved as Superman hurried over; they shared a tight hug, Martha all but clinging to her son and trying not to break down.

"Are you guys okay?" Superman asked, trying not to freak out as he looked down at the trio.

"We tried to stop Linda," Pete said bluntly; he shifted and winced in pain. "As you can see, didn't quite work out that way." He saw Superman's expression. "Don't worry, Clark, you know I've had far worse done to me than your cousin throwing me into a wall." He sighed. "She probably only broke a **few** ribs."

"How did the kryptonite affect Linda so quickly?" Superman asked. "She wasn't exposed for that long."

"I think right now we need to worry about where she is and how to stop her before she hurts anyone else," Jonathan replied, "or publically reveals herself."

"Mister Kent," Oliver spoke up, "we all know what it's going to take to stop her." He glanced between the three Kents and saw their troubled expressions; he knew they didn't want to think about it, even if it **was** the only way.

"You're gonna use green kryptonite on her," Gar spoke up in disbelief, and all the adults knew he wasn't asking but stating.

"Sweetie, there's no other way," Martha said gently.

"Let me talk to her," Gar pleaded, putting his ice pack down. He thought back to the time he had rescued Linda from the river—and the effect the green rock around her neck had had on her; he actually felt nauseous and quickly pushed those images from his thoughts. "I'm one of her best friends; she'll listen to me."

"Gar," Jonathan said gently, "you saw how Linda was behaving. As long as she's wearing that bracelet, she will remain out of control; she won't care who she hurts or what she does. The only thing capable of stopping her now is green kryptonite." He saw the teenager's eyes grow bright with tears, but Gar kept his composure.

"I'll do it," Superman replied; he saw everyone look at him, and he knew what they were thinking. "Look, I'm the only one capable of getting close enough to Linda to stop her."

"No, you're not," Oliver said bluntly.

Superman looked at his friend in anger. "I'll push through the pain, Ollie," he said forcefully, trying to keep his composure. "I've done it before."

"I know," Oliver said calmly as he slowly got to his feet, wincing, "but you didn't see Linda when she was here, Clark. Yes, she may be out of control and angry at a lot of people right now, but I also saw fear in her eyes. She's scared, like a wounded animal, and she won't hesitate to lash out if she feels threatened," he nodded at the destruction around the kitchen, "even at the people she cares about."

Superman clenched his jaw and fists; he knew Oliver was right, but he didn't want to admit it. If he was truly honest with himself, the hero was terrified at the thought of having to hurt his cousin—even if he knew it was the only way to save her. "So, what do you suggest?" he finally asked after several moments of silence.

"Backup," Oliver replied without hesitation.

(End of Chapter 9)


	10. Chapter 10

_(Author's note: I'm upping the rating on this from a T-rating to an M-rating, because this scene ended up being a little more detailed than a T-rating would allow, plus there will be a fight scene later on; I am keeping both scenes to accurately portray the intense emotions and consequences these characters are going to have after this ordeal is over)_

* * *

Jimmy closed the apartment door and gingerly tossed his backpack on the couch, followed by his jacket; he leaned against the door and sighed, exhausted. It had been a rough day—it was as if all of his teachers were being sadists and purposefully trying to cram as much school work into his last semester as humanly possible: he already had a physics project due in two weeks, three photography assignments for the yearbook, an English paper due at the end of the week, and fifty algebra problems for homework, not to mention his responsibilities at the Planet. The photographer sighed glanced at the wall clock hanging nearby and groaned; he only had about thirty minutes before Perry would call and chew him out for being late.

"No, Chief, that's not mentholated limburger cheese you're smelling," the teenager muttered as he headed into his room, slowly peeling off his shirt along the way, "that's just what I smell like after my coach felt the need to torture us by making us run laps for fifty minutes in a heated gym."

Jimmy hated gym, especially since it was his last class of the day, and he had to scramble to get home at a decent time so he could shower before going to work. He tossed the shirt onto a pile of laundry shoved in the corner and kicked his shoes off before taking his cellphone from his jeans pocket and putting it on his nightstand before removing his jeans and socks and adding them to the pile of clothes; wearing only a pair of green boxer briefs, the photographer longingly glanced at his bed—the soft pillows beckoning for him to just rest for a few moments—but the teenager knew if he lay down, he would sleep for the remainder of the day; sighing, he headed into his bathroom to get some ointment for his aching muscles.

"I don't think you smell **that** bad."

Jimmy froze as he recognized the voice, then he slowly turned around to see Linda leaning against the corner on the other side of his room; the photographer's eyes widened in shock when he saw her attire and make-up; two large duffle bags were in the nearby corner. "Linda?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Green's a good color on you," Linda continued, smirking.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, confused, then glanced down—and realized he was standing there dressed in nothing but his underwear; he scrambled to grab a pillow from his bed and did his best to shield himself. "Wh-wh-what, what are you doing here?" he stammered, blushing.

"I wanted to thank you for the present you gave me," Linda replied, holding up her wrist, showing off the bracelet. "You weren't home when I got here, so I let myself in and waited." She slowly crossed the room, stopping a few inches from him. "I really like it."

"Uh, no, no problem," Jimmy said, his gaze drifting south for a moment, but then he quickly focused back to her face. "But, uh…you could've just…texted me or something…you didn't have to come here…dressed like…like…why are you dressed like…this?"

"Because I like wearing it," Linda replied, amused as she saw his focus shifting downward once more, "and you don't seem to mind, either."

Jimmy quickly looked up, embarrassed. "I, uh, I need to…get ready for work," he replied, trying to maintain his composure. "Perry'll have my hide if I'm late."

"And I need to talk to you," Linda retorted as she edged closer. "I've made my decision." Looking confused, Jimmy opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Linda kissed him full upon his lips. The photographer stiffened and gave a muffled squeak, his eyes wide; after a few moments, Linda pulled back, smiling up at him, his lips still pursed as he started at her in shock.

"Uh, about…about what?" he asked slowly after a few moments.

Linda smile widened. "About us," she replied before gently snatching the pillow from him and tossing it back on the bed. "Much better." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, pressing against him.

Jimmy had dreamt for months of kissing her, her kissing him, ever since he'd met her; his thoughts drifted as he closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the sensation of her lips against his, but it lasted only for a few moments before he came to his senses; he gently grabbed her hands and removed them from his neck, pulling back.

"What's wrong?" Linda asked, slightly annoyed.

"I thought we agreed to be friends," Jimmy said, trying to remain composed. "What happened?"

Linda simply smiled as she gently pulled her hands free. "Ever since I've arrived, I've been so concerned about what other people think that I've allowed fear to dictate my decisions. My feelings for you haven't changed since July, but I've been too scared to say anything." She shook her head slightly as she put her hands on his bare chest, feeling his muscles quiver under her touch; she brushed her fingers lightly against his skin as she moved her hands up to his shoulders. "Last night, I decided to stop being scared." She pulled him close, kissing him again.

Jimmy wanted to protest, but he couldn't think of a good enough reason as he closed his eyes, losing himself, not wanting the kiss to end; his hands hovered awkwardly near her jeans for a moment, his fingers brushed against the denim fabric, before gently squeezing her hips. After a few moments he ran his hands up her back, gently pulling her into him as he wrapped his arms around her back, the kissing growing; some unknown time passed before he pulled back slightly, their arms still around each other.

"That was…nice," he said softly, smiling.

"So, why did you stop?" Linda asked, amused. "I certainly wasn't protesting."

"Because as great as this is," Jimmy answered, "I'm going to be late for work if I don't leave soon; I don't want Perry breathing down my neck as soon as I get there."

"Then just don't go in," Linda said. "Call him and tell him you're not feeling well." She smirked playfully. "Maybe I could rub those aching muscles for you, help you relax; you know I'm pretty good with my hands."

Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows slightly, even as he smiled, blushing a bit. "Uh, wow," he said slowly, chuckling. "This is…a different side to you."

"And you're not complaining," Linda said before kissing him tenderly. "Come on, Jimmy; the Planet will survive for one day without their best photographer," she kissed him again, "and you and can continue celebrating." She inhaled deeply and shot a puff of arctic air into Jimmy's mouth.

Jimmy felt the cold air rush into his mouth and squeaked before pulling back, gasping; it didn't hurt, but it was definitely unexpected. Arms still around her, he stared at her as she smiled flirtatiously at him—and suddenly going to work wasn't that important anymore. "So, uh," he said, the minty cold sensation lingering, "if you give me a few minutes to get dressed, we can go get something to eat…figure out where to go from here."

"I know exactly where I want to go from here," Linda replied, brushing the back of his neck with her fingers, "and it doesn't even require us leaving your room."

Jimmy appeared bewildered. "What do you—" He stopped short when it suddenly clicked in his mind; his smile slowly faded. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Linda shrugged, still smiling, and the photographer quickly let her go and pulled away; he brushed past her, walking over to the window before turning to face her. "Linda, we just went from 'Single' to 'In a relationship.' Don't you think taking **that** next step now is moving a bit fast?"

"Jimmy, running at Mach 2 is 'fast,'" Linda replied as she stepped out of her shoes and slowly walked over to him. "What I'm suggesting is nothing more than the natural, normal progression of a relationship." Jimmy swallowed nervously as she approached, but he didn't move from his spot. "And I know you've fantasized about us being together like this; I have, too." She cupped her hands tenderly around Jimmy's face before softly kissing him. "Why deny ourselves something we've both wanted for so long?"

Jimmy closed his eyes as she cradled his face, putting his hands over hers, their fingers interlacing as he clung to her. He felt a wave of emotions—anger, rejection, betrayal—wash over him, and he thought back to all the times he'd been hurt by people he thought he could trust, and he felt his body shake, but he forced himself to keep his composure; he didn't want to break down, not in front of Linda. He took a ragged breath and let it out slowly as he briefly squeezed his eyes before slowly opening them; his gaze locked with Linda's as he moved his hands to her face, feeling a sense of peace as he stared into her blue eyes. He gently caressed her cheeks with his thumbs before leaning over and kissing her, tender at first, but it quickly intensified, fueled by an emerging passion neither one of them wanted to suppress anymore.

Jimmy moved his hands around Linda's waist, pulling her close, as his tongue invaded her mouth, while Linda wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his hair, sending a shiver down Jimmy's back; the photographer moaned softly against her lips as he moved his hands down the small of her back, grabbing the bottom of her sweater and yanking it up. Linda raised her arms, pulling back long enough for Jimmy to tug the jumper off and throw it to the floor before she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him as she kissed him hungrily.

Jimmy shuddered, his breathing shallow and quick, his heart pounding, as he felt her black silk bra touch his bare chest. His head swimming, he traced his hands down to her hips, his fingers brushing against the bare skin below her belly button; her heard her sharply inhale, moaning against his mouth. The photographer fumbled clumsily with the button, but he finally managed to pull her shorts down, letting them slide down her legs to the floor. Jimmy got a brief glimpse of Linda black silk panties as she stepped out of the jeans and kicked them aside before the photographer wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him; she tilted her head back as he moved his lips to her neck, sending shivers down her spine as she moaned softly in his ear.

Feeling courageous, Jimmy moved his hands down her hips, brushing the smooth skin of her thighs as he stopped just above her knees; he lifted her legs off the ground, and Linda deftly wrapped her thighs around his waist. Jimmy crossed the room and knelt on his bed, gently laying Linda across the unmade sheets, her head resting on one of his pillows. Caging her with his body, he kissed her hungrily before moving down her neck to her collarbone; Linda whimpered, running her fingers through his hair, as his lips brushed the soft skin just above her sternum.

Suddenly, the chorus of 'Walking in Memphis' belted out from Jimmy's cellphone, breaking the silence; Jimmy groaned and closed his eyes.

"You gotta…be kidding…me," he muttered, panting heavily.

"Who is it?" Linda asked, also out of breath.

"Perry," Jimmy replied, sighing as he rolled off Linda and grabbed his phone, giving her an apologetic expression. "I gotta…take it."

"Just let it go to voicemail," Linda replied, looking annoyed as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"I'll be quick," Jimmy responded, still breathing hard as he leaned over and kissed her affectionately before answering his phone. "Hey, Mr. White."

"You okay, Jimmy?" Perry asked. "You sound out of breath."

"Yeah, I've been achy and sweaty since I got home," Jimmy replied, looking at Linda with a slight smile on his face; she grinned and leaned over to nibble his ear playfully, causing the photographer to sigh softly as he tried to remain focused. "And, uh…I, I'm starting to run a fever, too."

"Are you sure?" Perry asked.

Jimmy closed his eyes as Linda slowly moved her tongue down the side of his neck before straddling his hips, grinding against him; the photographer bit his lips, whimpering softly, as she traced her fingers over his chest and stomach. "Oh, yeah," he said softly, leaning back and closing his eyes as his heart pounded in his chest, his breathing growing more rapid as he slowly smiled. "I'm **definitely** feeling very hot all of a sudden."

"Great Caesar's ghost, Jimmy," Perry muttered, "not you, too."

"What are you talking about?" Jimmy asked.

"Well, it doesn't really matter now since you're staying home," Perry answered, "but I was calling to let you know Clark wouldn't be here when you arrived."

"Why?" Jimmy asked.

"Apparently, Chloe said Linda's having a bad reaction to some medication, and Clark wants to make sure she's okay."

Jimmy's smile faded as he opened his eyes; he glanced up at Linda as she stared back at him, smiling. "Okay," he said slowly, "well, uh, I'm gonna go now; keep me posted." He hung up and put his phone back on the nightstand, then glanced back at Linda, concerned. "Uh, Linda, I hate to be a mood killer, but why would—"

"I'm not having a bad reaction," Linda interrupted, her smile fading. "I feel just fine."

Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows. "How did you know what we were talking about?" he asked, then he remembered what she had told him last night at the party. "Super-hearing, never mind." He took a deep breath and shifted into a sitting position. "So, why is Clark really on his way to Smallville?"

"It doesn't matter," Linda asked as she leaned over and kissed Jimmy, but stopped when he pulled back slightly; she sighed, annoyed. "What?"

"Clark wouldn't use an excuse like that without there being something really wrong," Jimmy said. "What is going on, Linda?"

Linda snorted mirthlessly. "Typical," she said as she got off Jimmy and started pacing in front of the bed. "I come here to tell you that I'm ready to be in a relationship with you, I even willingly offer myself to you, but as soon as we get going, you suddenly want to talk about Clark."

"I just want to know what's going on," Jimmy said slowly, confused.

"Will you stop interrogating me?!" Linda shouted, her eyes flashing orange.

Jimmy jumped, startled by her sudden outburst; he stared at her in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say something, then he saw her clutch the sides of her head, closing her eyes as if she was in pain; the photographer scrambled to his feet and hurried over, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Linda, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Linda slowly opened her eyes, breathing heavily. Her eyes darted around wildly before they met Jimmy's, and the photographer saw a look of fear radiating back; she stared at him for a moment before she threw herself at him, kissing him desperately as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Make love to me," she said tearfully, her voice wavering, "please." Jimmy grabbed her shoulders and gently, but firmly, pushed her away from him; she stared at him with a hurtful expression. "Jimmy?"

"Linda, something's really wrong with you," Jimmy answered softly, trying to keep his composure, knowing he was hurting her. "I can't…I'm sorry."

The hurt on Linda's face suddenly disappeared, replaced with a cold expression. "Fine," she said, her voice low, with edge, before blurring around the room; she stopped a second later, fully dressed, standing next to his bedroom door, holding the duffle bags in her hands. "I came here, thinking we could have some fun; guess I was mistaken." She blurred out of the room and apartment, leaving Jimmy to stare at his open door in disbelief.

The photographer suddenly felt his legs shaking as a wave of nausea started building in his abdomen; he eased himself onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs; he buried his head in his hands and took a ragged breath, racking his brain as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

(End of Chapter 10)


	11. Chapter 11

_(Author's note: Just a reminder, this story takes place in 'The Flash' timeline, but Arrow doesn't exist, so part of 'Flash vs. Arrow' happened: Barry getting infected by Roy Bivolo and the fight with Oliver (Justin Hartley, not Stephen Amell), but 'Arrowverse' exists on an alternate Earth—thank you, multiverse, for making this possible!)_

Martha sat at the kitchen table, damaged photo frames pictures, and broken knickknacks, set off to the far side. Some of the objects could be fixed, while some were beyond repaired, but Martha didn't care at the moment; she silently stared at the photo in her hands: a group shot of all four Kents taken shortly after Linda's arrival last year. The woman focused on the image of her daughter, her eyes dancing with energy behind her glasses as she grinned at the camera.

Martha looked over as the kitchen door opened, and Jonathan walked in, followed by Gar and Barry, who dressed in his costume with the cowl off; all three of them carried empty cans of yellow-tinted paint brushes and empty cans. They put them on the nearby kitchen counter, their expressions somber as Martha, still holding the photo in her hand, stood up.

"Well, the outside looks good," Jonathan said, his voice softer than normal.

Martha looked at Barry and Gar. "Thank you," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "both of you."

"No problem," Barry replied, before he glanced around the interior. "Does everything in here look okay?" Everything that had been damaged during the altercation with Linda had been repaired or replaced, paid by Oliver and delivered by Barry (who hadn't hesitated to help after Oliver had informed him of the situation.) The speedster had done most of the work, but he knew Jonathan and Gar needed to keep busy, so all three of them had worked together to paint the fence, porch, and exterior of the house.

Martha nodded. "Yes," she replied, sincerely. The interior had been fixed so well that no one, save for those who had witnessed it, would have known there had been a violent confrontation less than two hours earlier. The woman glanced at Gar, who appeared lost and exhausted. "Gar, I know your parents are out of town, but why don't you go home and get some rest? We'll call you the moment we hear anything."

Gar shook his head. "I'm staying here until Linda comes back," he said determinedly. He slowly glanced up at Jonathan and Martha, expecting them to be upset, but they just looked at him with understanding.

"Okay," Jonathan replied, nodding.

Gar wordlessly trudged into the living room and flopped onto the couch. Krypto and Streaky, who had been cowering under the couch since Linda's departure, tentatively crawled out. The two animals sniffed at Gar's feet and, recognizing him, hopped up on the couch; they nuzzled close to the teenager, who absentmindedly scratched their ears as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Barry watched the teenager with sympathy, thinking back to the time he'd been affected by Roy Bivolo; even a year later, the repercussions of that incident—and subsequent confrontation with Oliver—still resonated deeply with Barry. The speedster could only imagine how Gar felt at the moment, having to fight one of his closest friends, and Barry didn't even want to think about how this was going to affect Linda; he knew she carried a tremendous weight on her shoulders—and this was going to completely devastate her.

When he glanced over at Jonathan and Martha, Barry saw the farmer with his arm around his wife as she leaned her head against him; the young man could tell that their eyes were bright with tears as they fought to keep their composure.

"We will find her," he said softly, "I promise. We'll bring her home." The Kents didn't say anything, but Jonathan swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding, and Barry knew he was no longer needed at the farm. "I'm gonna go catch up with Clark and Ollie." He quietly walked to the front door and opened it, pausing a moment to glance over his shoulder at the couple; he pulled his cowl back over his face, took in a deep breath, and headed out the door in a blur of yellow lighting.

* * *

Night had fallen, and the wind had an icy bite as it channeled through the buildings of Metropolis, but it wasn't enough to diminish the activity outside the Atlantis nightclub; lights flashed, and people huddled behind a roped-off area, pulling their jackets and coats close, protesting and begging to be allowed to get past the two guards flanking the doors to the front entrance.

Marty Feldman stood at the front of the line, pretending to check the clipboard in his hands, smirking to himself as he listened to their offers of money and—from some of the women—promises to 'make it worth his while;' his job didn't have many perks to it, but by the end of his shift he'd always managed to follow through with at least one of those 'promises.'

The sound of a loud engine interrupted the cacophony, and everyone looked over as a red Lamborghini pulled up to the curb; everyone stared as the door opened and a slender leg emerged from the car. Linda stepped out, still dressed in her black attire, donning her sunglasses; she raised them up to looked around, a suggestive smile on her face, as she held a small black clutch in her free hand. Lowering her sunglasses, she handed the car key to a young man who didn't appear to be too much older than herself, amused at his glassy-eyed expression as he all but drooled at her appearance.

Linda patted his cheek before strolling past the crowd; she didn't have to look over to know the attention of everyone in line was directed at her; she ignored most of the comments directed at her, but then her super-hearing picked out a low, masculine voice out of the crowd:

"I'd tap her in a heartbeat."

The young girl stopped and turned around, just in time to see the guy getting slapped by a girl—presumably is girlfriend—before she stormed off, leaving the guy to rub his cheek as others around him snickered with amusement.

"So, what," Linda said as she crossed her arms as she walked over to him, staying on the other side of the rope, "you thought you could make some innuendo, and I'd get all weak in the knees and **beg** you to take me to your place for a quick romp in the sheets?"

"Actually, I was just thinking the alley around back, sweetie," the guy replied, smirking down at her, "but I'm still game if you are."

Linda glanced down at his crotch briefly, snorting, before looking back up and giving him a sickly, sweet smile. "Not interested," she replied, "but if I ever have a shortage of toothpicks, I'll know where to find **one**."

The guy's smile quickly faded as others around him snickered and laughed; his face slowly turned red as his expression contorted into anger. "You little bitch," he snarled as he quickly raised a clenched fist and swung it at Linda; the young girl easily leaned back, and the guy's fist followed through—slamming right into the nose of a guy standing next to him.

The first guy's face drained of color, his eyes growing wide, as the second guy glared at him—before his own fist connected with the first guy's face; soon, the two men were brawling as people scattered, and both security guards and Marty scrambled over. Taking advantage of the distraction, Linda sauntered casually over to the entrance and let herself in.

Loud, fast-paced music blared at full volume out of every speaker, lights flashed wildly, and couples packed the dance floor, grinding provocatively to the beat of the song. Linda ignored the looks some of the guys were giving her as she scanned the area, finally spotting a lone staircase nearby leading to a large, private balcony; the young girl made her way through the crowd and climbed the stairs.

Richard Maverick sat on the long plush black sofa, a couple of young girls on either side, teasing him and giggling as he drank his martini. Other people, about thirty in total, were spread out among the tables and chairs, drinking and mingling. Richard glanced over as Linda reached the top of the stairs, and he stopped with his glass midway to his lips as she removed her sunglasses and their eyes met.

Richard raised an eyebrow as he slowly smiled, sizing her up; his expression clearly showed he was calculating what could be a very hot, little tumble. He glanced around and saw his guests were also captivated by the young girl, with most of the men—and some of the woman—staring at her, all thinking about the odds of scoring their own personal encounter with her. He quickly got to his feet, crossing the room before anyone else took the initiative.

"Well, hello," he said, smiling. "Looking for a good time, honey?"

"Actually, I'm looking to be alone," Linda replied, unimpressed.

"You sure, sweetie?" Richard pressed. "I can clear everyone out, and you and I can be alone together."

Linda stared at him, and a slow smile spread across her face. "Well, it **is** my birthday," she replied after a few moments, smiling, never taking her eyes from his.

"Oh, then let me give you a present you'll never forget," Richard said, smiling before glancing around at his guests. "Party's over, everyone! Beat it!" Richard heard the grumbles and murmurs of protest—and a few less-than-savory names aimed at the girl—but he ignored them as he looked back at Linda, keeping his eyes locked with hers; a few moments passed before the two were the by themselves.

"So," Richard continued, still smiling, as he stepped closer to Linda, "ready for that gift?"

"You mean," Linda said slowly, folding her arms, "am I ready for you to bend me over one of those chairs so you can live out your sick, twisted fantasy of banging a blonde nubile?"

"When you say it like that," Richard replied, wondering how she could possibly know what he was thinking, but feigning hurt as he caressed one of her cheeks with his finger, "you make it sound like I'm a creepy pervert." He moved his finger slowly down her neck and chest before stopping at her waistline. "I just think it's a shame that someone as hot as you is all by yourself on your birthday, and I was willing to take time out of my busy schedule to cheer you up. Trust me, I'm really very gentle."

Never taking her eyes from his, Linda grabbed Richard's wrist—and deftly snapped it to the side; Richard shouted as he felt multiple bones break, excruciating pain shooting up his arm to his shoulder as his entire body shook. Before he could react, Linda grabbed the front of his shirt with one hand and hoisted him high over her head, her face twisted in an angry glare.

"Every day I have to put up with people like you," she growled, "all of you staring at me, leering at me. I see it in your eyes what you're thinking, hear in your own words what you want to do with me." She tossed him to the side, and Richard went sailing through the air; he slammed into the wall over the couch, leaving the wall cracked from his impact before he crumpled onto the black cushions, groaning in pain. "And I'm sick of it!"

Richard grunted as he pushed through the pain and he used his good hand to reach into his jacket; he pulled out a gun, aiming it right at the young girl. "Too bad," he growled as he glared at Linda. "We could have had a really good time tonight." He pulled the trigger, seeing the flash of gunpowder, the bang muffled by the loud music. Less than a split second later, the gun was yanked out of his hand as Richard saw the girl towering over him; his eyes widened as she held up the fired bullet between her thumb and index fingers.

"What the hell?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Guessing you've never heard the term 'faster than a speeding bullet,'" Linda replied before throwing the projectile to the side; she crushed the gun like a soda can before tossing it, then grabbed Richard and hoisted him up. "You know what happens to an egg when it's rapidly heated in its shell?" Her eyes flashed bright orange, and Richard tensed and closed his eyes.

"Put him down."

Linda looked over when she heard the familiar voice and saw the tall figure standing at the top of the stairs; he wore a crisp, black suit, his black hair was slicked back, and he stared at the young girl, almost like his green eyes were trying to pierce her soul. Only slightly unnerved, Linda rolled her eyes before casually tossing Richard into the wall; the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"And you say I never listen to you," Linda replied as she smirked at her cousin.

"You need to stop this," Clark warned her. "That bracelet is making you dangerous; you need to take it off."

"This bracelet is making me free," Linda retorted. "How could you not tell me about this sooner? Were you trying to keep it all for yourself, just so you could watch me suffer everyday?"

"That's not true, and you know it," Clark said.

"Well, true or not," Linda replied calmly as she folded her arms, "I'm not going to take this bracelet off—and there's nothing you can do that will make me change my mind."

Clark stared at her for a few moment—and Linda could have sworn she saw a brief flash of sympathy wash over his eyes—but that moment was interrupted when her cousin suddenly charged her at full speed; he moved faster than Linda's ever seen him, and she didn't have time to react as he blurred behind her and deftly grabbed her in a tight bear hug before flying up, crashing through the ceiling and heading skyward.

Linda struggled as they gained altitude, but Clark kept his grip tight as he flew high in the sky; he ignored the words and threats she shouted at him as soared out of Metropolis. A few moments later, he changed direction, heading back toward the earth; Linda stopped squirming when she saw them heading for a large construction site. Before she could react, Clark let her go about a hundred feet in the air, and the young girl slammed into ground, kicking up a large cloud of dust as she tumbled and rolled for a good fifty feet before stopping; the teenager groaned a little, slightly stunned by the force but unhurt. Annoyed, she slowly got to her feet, dusting off her clothes as she looked around, finally spotting Clark standing fifty feet away, just staring at her.

"You think bringing me here is going to get me to change my mind?" she asked angrily.

"No," Clark replied calmly, "we just want to minimize the damage that will most likely ensue as a result of this confrontation."

Linda tilted her head, staring at him. "So, is my cousin going to joining us," she asked, "or is he having you do all the dirty work for him?"

'Clark' didn't say anything as his entire body appeared to ripple. In an instant, where her 'cousin' had been stood a tall, well-built man with green skin, red eyes, and no hair; he wore a black suit with a red emblem on his chest, and a blue cape and matching boots. "Your cousin simply wants to see you safely home," he replied.

Linda didn't look the least bit surprised by his appearance. "The Martian," she replied with a smirk; she bowed, her body language and tone clearly mocking his presence. "I finally have the pleasure of meeting the great J'onn J'onzz."

"Linda," J'onn said calmly, "Clark is very worried about you."

"So, he sends you to bring me in?" Linda asked, folding her arms.

"You're refusing to listen to reason," J'onn replied, "and you're hurting those around you in the process."

"If you know what I've done," Linda said, "you should've known better than to face me alone."

"Who says I came alone?" J'onn asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Linda turned around and stopped short when she saw group of six costumed people standing in front of her. Her cousin, Batman, Green Arrow, and the Flash were the most recognizable to her, but it didn't take a genius to figure out the identities of the others.

The first man was tall, with two large feathered wings protruding from his back; he wore a short-sleeved, brown leather tunic, matching brown pants and boots, and clutched a large spiked mace in his right hand. His blue eyes stared at Linda from behind a winged hawk cowl, his jaw set.

The man standing next to him had brown hair and blue eyes, and he wore a green and black jumpsuit with a green lantern emblem on his chest, white gloves, green boots, and a matching green domino mask; the glowing green ring on his right middle finger pulsated with green energy.

Linda simply smiled, unfazed by the presence of the people standing in front of her. "Well, this is truly an honor," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "The mighty Justice League."

(End of Chapter 11)


	12. Chapter 12

Superman looked at Linda sadly before glancing at the red stones of the bracelet glinting in the moonlight; memories—painful memories—of all the times he himself had been infected resurfaced for the young man, and he knew when this was all over, it was going to be far worse for his cousin.

"Linda, you have to listen to reason," he pleaded as he stepped forward. "You don't realize how dangerous that bracelet is making you."

"I feel free," Linda replied, "but we certainly can't have that, can we?" She glanced at Flash, shaking her head as she smiled mirthlessly. "Well, now we know which side you're really playing for, Barry."

"Linda, I'm only here to help you," Flash said gently. "We all are."

"Really?!" Linda asked, her eyes flashing with anger. "By siding with a bunch of costumed hypocrites who have no problem trusting Clark but refuse to see me as anything but a threat?!" She glanced between the group and J'onn. "None of you give a damn about me!"

"Linda, the fact that you're standing there yelling at us," Green Arrow replied, gripping his bow tightly in his left hand, "proves that we care more about you than you think."

"Oh, so, I should be **thanking** you for not attacking me," Linda replied sarcastically, "just like I should be thanking you for choosing to simply monitor me like Big Brother instead of locking me up like a criminal, right?" She narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists as she crouched slightly in a defensive position. "Why don't you all just admit it? You know I'm better than you'll ever be—and that scares the hell out of you."

Batman narrowed his eyes at the teenager; he knew it was the kryptonite talking—mostly—but he was never a fan of arrogance in any form. "Get that bracelet off her," he growled.

Flash blurred forward while the rest of the League broke formation—Green Lantern, Hawkman, Superman, and J'onn taking to the sky; Batman and Green Arrow took cover behind various objects; the speedster stopped within twenty feet of the young girl and spun his arms rapidly, creating a powerful vortex.

Linda fought to stay upright as the wind whipped around her at an incredible speed, kicking up dust and causing objects to hurtle through the air like missiles. The young girl leaned forward, planting her feet, shielding her eyes with her arm as objects bounced off her; after a few seconds, she raised her gaze to meet Flash's, narrowing her eyes, unhurt but seriously ticked off. Her irises flashed a deep orange before two beams of intense heat shot out, hitting the speedster square in the chest. Flash shouted in pain, and the wind quickly died down as he was thrown back; he landed twenty feet away, groaning as he sprawled out, his emblem charred, while Linda stood tall in her spot, her hair mussed up, glaring down at the young man triumphantly.

 _"Bar, what happened? We lost video over here."_

Flash winced, breathing hard. "I'm fine, Cisco," he mumbled. "Just got hit with a little heat vision, that's all."

 _"Linda heat vision-ed you?!"_

" _Told you we should be there to help."_

 _"Ronald, no; Barry told us to stay put—for Miss Kent's safety."_

"Oh, believe me, Professor," Linda replied as Barry slowly rolled over and got to his feet, wincing, "the only person's safety you should be worried about is Barry's." Her eyes glowed again, but she was suddenly engulfed in a green transparent bubble; surprised, the glow in teenager's eyes quickly went died as she was lifted off the ground.

 _"Are you sure we can't just flash a bunch of colors in her eyes, too?"_

 _"Cisco, we're already discussed this: Linda's being exposed to radiation that's affecting the adrenocortical and hypothalamic responses in her brain. As long as she's in contact with that bracelet, she's going to—"_

 _"I know, I know, she's gonna be going Mr. Hyde on everyone's ass."_

"Guys, don't worry," Barry spoke up as he slowly got to his feet, panting, as he turned his eyes skyward. "She's gonna be fine," his voice dropped, "I hope."

Green Lantern strained as Linda recovered, shouting angrily as she hammered away at her prison, striking it with her fists and feet repeatedly, but the she couldn't even put a dent in it. Her eyes glowed fiery orange as her temper rose.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Linda looked up and saw Green Lantern floating above her, his body outlined in a green aura; his ring projected the energy that formed the bubble around her. "All projections made by this ring," Green Lantern continued, "are due to sheer willpower; your heat vision is powerful, sweetie, but nothing can beat pure will."

Linda narrowed her eyes as she looked straight at him. "You're right," she growled, "now let me tell **you** something: both my parents were monsters ,and I lived in fear of them all my life; several times they tried to kill me—once or twice they almost succeeded—but I pushed through the pain and survived each and every encounter," her body shook, and Green Lantern's eyes slowly widened as cracks formed on the bubble's surface; he clutched his ring hand as his body strained, fighting to keep the projection together, "because I promised myself I'd be **damned** before I let them have the pleasure of taking my life from me!" She yelled loudly as her body convulsed, and the bubble shattered from the telekinetic force; Green Lantern shouted as the blast hit him, sending him tumbling head over heels through the air, as the young girl dropped to the ground, expertly landing and staying on her feet.

"Who's stronger now?" the teenager smirked, watching the hero fall through the sky, landing hard in the back of a dump truck. Her hearing picked up the sounds of four objects heading toward her; she glanced behind her to see Superman and J'onn flying toward her, then looked back and saw the green arrow and batarang slicing through the air in her direction. She waited until Superman and J'onn were within ten feet before quickly crouching and leapt into the air high over them; both men stopped and stared as she landed on the roof of a nearby building, stunned by how expertly she had avoided them.

 _"Guys, heads up!"_

Superman and J'onn looked down when they heard Oliver's voice in their earpieces, and their eyes widened as the projectiles hit them head on, exploding on contact. The powerful blasts sent both aliens flying backward; Superman landed on a pile of steel beams, crushing them on impact, while J'onn slammed into a concrete wall and fell to the ground, groaning.

 _"Clark, J'onn, you two okay?"_

"Yeah, I'm fine," Superman replied as he slowly got to his feet; he looked over as J'onn stood up. "J'onn?"

"I'll survive," the Martian answered, wincing slightly.

As Linda watched from her perch, a cruel smile played on her lips; it had been easy fighting them—a joke, really; she had made them look like amateurs. "Pathetic," she muttered as she crouched to jump down and continue the fight when she felt a tap on her shoulder; she turned around and was immediately struck in the face with a hard object.

The young girl went sailing backwards off the building, the construction site whizzing past her; a second later, she shouted as she slammed into a steel girder and fell to the ground. A coppery taste filled her mouth as she groaned and got to her hands and knees; she spat blood onto the concrete and wiped her mouth as she looked up to see Hawkman zooming toward her, his mace raised. Her eyes narrowed, she pushed off the concrete and launched herself at the Thanagarian.

He knew it was the kryptonite controlling her actions—to an extent—but Hawkman still admired the tenacity of the young girl, even though he knew she was going to be very sore in the morning. He swung his weapon, but Linda twisted at the last moment, flipping over him and grabbing his shoulders like a gymnast grabbing a vault; she used her momentum to hurl the winged man as hard as she could away from her.

Superman, Flash, and J'onn looked over in time to see their teammate hurtling toward them like a locomotive. Hawkman slammed into them, knocking them down like bowling pins; the four men groaned softly as Linda landed on the ground in front of them, clutching Hawkman's mace in her right hand.

"You had to push it, didn't you?" she glared at them. "You couldn't just leave me alone." She heard movement behind her and turned in time to see the arrow coming toward her; she raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and simply grabbed the arrow. "This is the best you could come up with, Ollie?"

The arrow suddenly exploded into a brilliant white light; Linda shouted and squinted tightly, reflexively rubbing her eyes. She blinked repeatedly, seeing nothing but spots and started panicking as she frantically looked around. After a few moments, her vision cleared a little, and she spotted her cousin and his teammates in front of her; she crouched low, gripping the mace tightly, ready to attack before they could get their second wind.

Suddenly, she was hit from behind, and she grunted as she tumbled head over heels, the mace knocked from her hands, before she found herself on her back. The young girl looked up, her vision completely clear, and saw Batman sitting on her legs, pinning her wrists down, glowering at her.

"You think you have what it takes to stop me, Bruce?" she asked, her eyes daggers as she stared up at the Gothamite.

"You really don't want me to answer that question, Linda," Batman replied calmly as he quickly reached for her bracelet.

"Don't touch it!" Linda shouted, her eyes flashing orange before two heat beams shot out, hitting Batman in the left shoulder. Batman felt the searing heat burn through his costume, hitting skin, and he shouted out in pain, but he kept a firm grip on the young girl. Linda squirmed and struggled before she managed to bring her knees to her chest and kicked her legs out, hitting him in the chest and sending him flying through the air; he slammed into a brick wall, slumping to the ground, groaning; the young girl glared at the fallen Gothamite, panting hard, her fists clenched.

"Enough!"

Linda whirled around, ready to attack, as she heard the higher-pitched voice resonate through the area, and stopped short. Superman, Flash, J'onn, and Hawkman had recovered and were on their feet, but Linda's attention was drawn to the woman standing in front of them. She was tall and slender, with long brown hair pushed back slightly by a gold tiara, and she wore a red and blue sleeveless, leather leotard with red boots. She had silver bracelets on her wrists, a gold lasso attached to her right hip, and she clutched a sword in her right hand and a shield in her left; she stared at Linda with brown eyes, her face set.

"Let me guess," Linda replied as she slowly smirked, "the boys get me all exhausted, and you swoop in to finish the job after I'm good and tired." She snorted. "And here I actually believed the stories about you being a **formidable** opponent."

Diana pointed her sword at the teenager. "Child, you may be under the influence of something that is not your fault," she said, "but you refuse to listen to reason. None of us wish to hurt you, but we will do what is necessary to prevent you from causing further harm."

Linda crouched, clenching her fists, her smirk turning into a twisted smiled. "Bring it, princess," she replied.

(End of Chapter 12)


	13. Chapter 13

Diana narrowed her eyes as she gripped her sword tightly; under other circumstances, she would have admired the teenager's eagerness to fight—possibly even encouraged it—but the Amazonian knew Linda's thirst for battle was driven by, essentially, a drug-induced rage that had to be extinguished immediately.

"Linda, I came her to parley," she said, "in the hopes that you would listen to reason, but do not mistake a desire to avoid violence for the inability to deal with it."

"Then make your move," Linda demanded, her eyes briefly flashing orange.

Diana shouted as she leapt at the young woman, sword raised to attack. Linda stood still, waiting, arms at her sides, her eyes fixated on Diana with a condescending expression on her face. When the warrior was within ten feet of the teenager, Linda held her right hand out, as if she was reaching out for something; Hawkman's mace flew into her hand, and she raised it as Diana brought her sword down. The weapons clashed loudly, their energies reverberating outward from the impact.

Having recovered, Green Lantern descended from the sky, landing next to Superman, Flash, J'onn, and Hawkman; the five men stared in shock and confusion as the two women danced around each other in combat—not sure if they were more surprised that Linda was still standing or that she was actually fighting back…and holding her own fairly well against Diana, expertly meeting each blow the warrior dealt with one of her own.

"Can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture?" Green Arrow asked as he and Batman joined the group; he eyed the scorched, charred area of Batman's shoulder and winced as the Gothamite started tending to the wound; the archer glanced at Superman, seeing his confused face. "You didn't know Linda could fight like that."

"No," Superman said softly, watching is cousin in disbelief; the way she fought, the expression on her face full of rage, made her almost unrecognizable to him.

"Diana has her distracted," Batman said curtly, never taking his eyes off the two women. "Ollie, you know what to do."

Green Arrow glanced uncertainly at Superman, who didn't look happy but simply nodded. The archer wordlessly pulled an projectile from his quiver and readied it on the bowstring; everyone noticed the glowing green liquid in the arrow-tipped vile but didn't say anything. Green Arrow took a deep breath and carefully aimed at the teenager as Diana and Linda fought fast and hard, trading punches, kicks, and blocks; while it was clear Diana was getting more hits in against Linda, the teenager continued fighting, determined to stay on her feet.

"They're moving too fast," he muttered. "I can't get a good shot."

Linda suddenly shouted and dropped the mace, the weapon clattering to the ground, before grabbing the sides of her head; she fell to her knees, her eyes squeezed shut as if she was pain. Everyone, including Diana, stopped and stared at the girl, confused glanced at J'onn.

"It's not me," J'onn replied, stunned.

Linda's heart pounded and her entire body shook as images flashed rapidly through her mind like a flipbook; the young girl couldn't make out most of them, but there were a few that stood out: the teal beach, Rok-Var, being in the blue liquid, her father killing that unknown man, and Flamebird.

"She's having a vision," Superman said, concerned as he took a step forward.

"Another one?" Flash asked. Superman glanced at him, surprised. "Linda told me before Christmas." The speedster glanced over and saw his teammates staring at him with different expressions.

"We're going to discuss **that** later," Batman replied curtly before turning to Green Arrow. "Take the shot." The archer aimed at the teenager, pulling back the bowstring.

"Stop it!" Linda shouted, still distracted, and sent out a powerful wave of telekinetic energy pulsating outward. The shockwave hit all the members of the League, violently throwing them backwards; they slammed into various objects, landing hard on the ground, sprawling out, groaning.

"Okay, I'm definitely gonna feel **that** in the morning," Green Lantern muttered. He and the others looked over when they heard Linda shouting words in Kryptonese, tears streaming down her face as she continued clutching her head.

"What is happening to her?" Diana asked, confused as she and her teammates slowly got to their feet, watching Linda with concern.

"Ollie, take the shot," Batman ordered, "now."

Green Arrow grabbed his bow and arrow from where they had fallen and quickly readied the kryptonite arrow before aiming; he took a deep breath and swallowed before letting the bowstring go; the arrow quickly sliced through the air and hit the young girl in the back of the shoulder, embedding itself in her skin.

Linda shouted in pain and immediately fell forward, sprawling on the ground as the kryptonite immediately took effect; she groaned as her body shook, her blood boiling in her veins. She tried to reach around and pull the arrow out, but she didn't even have the strength to lift her arms. The young girl moaned softly, breathing hard, as her vision blurred, but she could still make out the shapes of the adults as they approached her.

"You must be so proud of yourselves," the girl spat through her pain, "ganging up on a teenager—having to resort to using a deadly rock to take me down," she tried to smirk, but it came out as a grimace, "but don't think for a second this is over; you're gonna have to take this out of me sometime—unless you plan on just letting me die."

"Get it off her, now," Superman said sadly as he kept his distance.

Linda tried to struggle as Batman and Diana quickly knelt beside her, shouting threats at them, but they simply ignored her as Diana gripped the young girl's arms while Batman quickly removed the bracelet from her wrist, placing it in a compartment on his belt. Immediately, the red kryptonite radiation from the bracelet ceased, and the teenager collapsed to the ground, writhing and gasping, still affected by the green poison; Green Arrow knelt down and deftly pulled the arrow from Linda's shoulder before backing away and storing it in his quiver.

The heroes moved out of the way as Superman hurried over and knelt beside his cousin, carefully turning her over and cradling her in his arms. Her body shook, and she was flushed and sweaty from the melee; she stared up at her cousin, her blue eyes filled with confusion and fear.

"Clark?" she asked softly, her voice shaky.

"It's okay," Superman reassured her. "I'm here. You're fine." He held Linda close as her composure broke, and she cried into his shoulder, clinging tightly to him as her body shook. He looked up at the others as they watched with various expressions on their faces; Batman and Diana stared at him with looks that clearly said they were going to be having a discussion—and soon. The sound of sirens growing closer broke the silence.

"We need to go," Superman said. "Now." No one asked where to; they knew there was only one logical place. Superman got to his feet, still holding Linda in his arms, and carefully took to the skies; J'onn, Diana, and Hawkman followed, while Green Lantern used his ring to project a bubble around Batman and Flash, heading into the sky to follow the rest of their team.

(End of Chapter 13)

 _(Author's note: Yes, this chapter isn't that long, but I didn't want to have a long, dragged out fight. It's not as epic as I had hoped, but I still think it brought to light a few questions that the League now has concerning Linda—and we'll see how_ _ **those**_ _play out.)_


	14. Chapter 14

So, then what?" Jonathan asked softly, looking a little uncomfortable. He and Martha sat next to each other, staring across the table at Jimmy, who looked like he wanted to just sink in his chair as he cradled and stared at the mug of warm tea in his hands. The teenager had arrived about half an hour ago, surprising the Kents, but when they learned that the photographer had encountered Linda in her drug-induced state, they ushered him in. Gar was still passed out on the couch, giving the trio a chance to sit down and talk about what had happened—regardless of how uncomfortable it was becoming.

Jimmy shrugged slightly. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice slightly sarcastic. "Linda came on to me…and I didn't say no."

Martha glanced at Jonathan, who didn't appear too happy but still maintained a compassionate composure; she gently took her husband's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Jimmy," she said gently, "we understand how difficult this must be, but can you tell us how far it…progressed?"

"Not as far as it could have," Jimmy replied, his cheeks feeling very hot, "and, believe me, it wasn't for lack of trying." He inhaled and let it out slowly. "Mr. White called to tell me lark had left work because Linda was sick, and after I hung up, I told Linda I was worried about her and…I couldn't go through with it." He shrugged. "Linda got dressed and left after that." He glanced up, expecting to see two adults looking at him, disgusted—and they would've had every right; he was surprised to see both of their faces filled with nothing but compassion and pride. "Okay, what gives? Why are you yelling or something?"

"Why would we?" Jonathan asked. Jimmy looked confused and wary, and the farmer sighed. "Jimmy, it's no secret that you and Linda have feelings for each other," he noticed Jimmy glancing down, his cheeks red, "but when you saw there was something wrong with her, you pushed aside…those feelings to try and help her, even though you had no idea what was wrong. That takes a lot of self-control, and we're proud of you."

"And," Martha added, "given the circumstances, if…something had happened, we still wouldn't be mad."

"How can you say that?" Jimmy asked in disbelief. "Linda was drugged—because of me—and I was so fixated on the fact that she was there that I didn't even stop to think that she would ever have done that unless something was wrong. And what if Mr. White hadn't called, huh? Linda and I would've…," he trailed off, sighing, "I would've been no better than a guy who put a roofie in a girl's drink."

Jonathan straightened up, furrowing his eyebrows. "Jimmy," he said, his voice low and firm, "a person like that is a coward who intends to hurt another person; you are neither a coward, nor did you intend to hurt Linda. The fact that you're this upset by what happened shows how much you care for her…and that's exactly why we want you in her life, son."

Jimmy opened his mouth to respond, but the kitchen door suddenly opened; the trio looked over as Linda quickly walked in, hugging herself as she kept her gaze downward. As soon as Martha and Jonathan saw their daughter, they jumped to their feet and crossed the room. Linda heard the commotion and looked over as her parents approached her, but she immediately took a step back, holding her hands up slightly in a defensive position; the Kents stopped and stared at their daughter in disbelief. Her hair was a mess, her clothes torn and dirty, and her face and hands covered in deep bruises and abrasions, but what stood out most were Linda's eyes; the normal, energetic blue irises were dull, almost gray and lifeless.

"Linda," Martha said softly, her voice shaky, "honey?"

Linda opened her mouth, but her eyes filled with tears as her chin quivered; the young girl shook her head and quickly brushed past her parents, heading for the stairs. She stopped short when she saw Jimmy standing next to the table; the photographer look at her in disbelief and concern. Linda wanted to say something, anything, but just looking at him brought back memories of their last encounter; humiliated and sick to her stomach, the young girl averted her gaze as she hurried up the stairs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Dad? Mom?"

Jonathan and Martha looked over as Superman slowly walked in, looking completely worn out; the rest of his teammates followed him inside. Bruce, Barry, Oliver, Green Lantern, and Hawkman had removed their masks and headpieces, revealing their own injuries. All of them appeared exhausted; even Diana looked a little battle weary.

"Clark, are you okay?" Martha asked, checking her son for injuries, even though he was unscathed.

"I'm fine," Superman replied softly. "We're all fine." He watched at Bruce as the Gothamite brushed past him, clutching his shoulder as he walked over to the cabinet where he knew the Kents kept the first aid kit; he pulled it out and began tending to the wound on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Superman glanced over, noticing Jimmy for the first time; he furrowed his eyebrows slightly. "What are you doing here? Did Chloe tell you what was wrong?"

"No," Jonathan answered, glancing at Jimmy as the teenager adverted his gaze. "Uh, Linda…paid Jimmy a visit earlier today; that's when he learned something was wrong and came to see us."

Oliver stared at the Jimmy, who looked extremely embarrassed; it suddenly clicked with the archer. "And this conversation is about to take a **very** awkward turn," he muttered; he glanced at Barry, who appeared puzzled. "Before Linda left after our last encounter, she said she was going to have some fun," he looked back at Jimmy, "and something tells me she…found it."

Barry raised his eyebrows as the realization hit him. "Oh," he replied slowly as he glanced at Jimmy.

"What?" Superman all but shouted as he looked at Jimmy, his eyes radiating betrayal. "You slept with Linda?"

"Clark," Jonathan said sternly as he put a hand on his son's shoulder, "calm down."

"It's good to know that after two years of working together," Jimmy said angrily, finally finding his voice, still looking embarrassed, "that you really don't know me at all, Clark. And for the record," he glared at the other League members, "not that it's really any of your damn business, but nothing happened—which is more than I can say about you guys. What did you do to her?"

"We did what had to be done," Bruce said bluntly as he put gauze over the wound and taped it in place. He knew Jimmy was stressed out by the whole ordeal—probably

riddled with guilt knowing it was his present that caused it all—and that was the **only** thing saving the teenager from having Bruce get in his face.

"That's not an acceptable answer, Bruce," Jonathan replied, trying to keep his voice level. "How did you stop Linda?"

"Would you believe it was kind of dumb luck?" Barry spoke up.

"What do you mean?" Martha asked, confused.

"We, uh, tried overpowering Linda," Barry explained, "but she fought back—against all of us," he nodded at his uniform, "she heat-visioned Bruce and myself, broke through Hal's projection, overpowered Carter, dodged Clark and J'onn, avoided Ollie's arrow and Bruce's batarang, and even managed to stand against Diana for a while."

Diana felt a little defensive as Martha and Jonathan glanced at her. "Linda fought well," she replied pragmatically, "even for one who wasn't trained on Themyscira; she has capabilities none of us were aware of," she glanced at Superman, "which is something worth pursing in the near future."

Martha narrowed her eyes. "Diana," she replied, her voice low with edge, "if you're, in anyway, suggesting Linda should be taken away from her family—especially now—then you'll quickly be aware of what kind of capabilities **I** have." In spite of the tension in the air, everyone stared at Martha in awe as she stared hard at the Amazonia, her expression almost daring Diana to call her bluff; under other circumstances, Diana would not have let that threat pass without one of her own, but she knew Martha was only reacting how any mother would do under the circumstances.

"So, if Linda was able to fight Diana," Jonathan spoke up, trying to diffuse the tension, "then how were you able to stop her?"

Superman glanced at his teammates and almost debated beating around the bush, but it would have been pointless. "Linda had another vision," he replied bluntly, "a pretty bad one." He saw the concerned looks on his parents' and Jimmy's faces.

"How bad?" Jonathan asked.

"Bad enough to distract her so Ollie could get hit with a kryptonite arrow," Superman answered simply. "We were able to subdue her after that."

"Where's the bracelet now?" Jimmy asked.

"Safe," Bruce replied curtly before turning to Superman. "So, how long as Linda been having visions?"

"Since the cave-in last September," Superman replied.

"And you felt it was necessary to keep us in the dark about them for what reason?" Bruce asked.

"Maybe because not everything in Linda's life is your business?" Barry snarked. Bruce glared at him—which would have normally terrified the speedster—but not today; Barry had pure adrenaline coursing through his veins, and not even Bruce Wayne could scare him at the moment. "We all have our private lives outside of the League; we don't monitor each other twenty-four seven, because we know the importance of being part of the very thing we've been protecting for the past year: humanity."

"Not the same," Bruce replied curtly. "Every single person in this room has either lived on Earth their entire life or has been living here for decades. One of the most powerful beings on this planet is a teenager who has spent all but seven months of her life raised by abusive parents, immersed in an culture that—from what Linda herself described—was about as far from humanity as you get."

"And some people choose to rise above the darkness," Barry retorted, "instead of letting themselves get consumed by it." Bruce narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue; there had been enough fighting for the evening. "Linda has chosen to reject her old life—she wants nothing to do with it—yet we treat her like a loaded pistol with a hair trigger."

"Barry, you saw what she did tonight," Carter spoke up. "That bracelet brought out something we were barely able to contain. Her fighting capabilities were a secret that no one—not even her own family—knew about; add her visions to the mix, and you can't blame us for being apprehensive about her."

"Being afraid of her doesn't validate treating her like a toddler with a ray gun," Barry said.

"Trust me, Barry," Diana said with edge, "I'm not afraid of her, but she was out of control. Her reaction to red kryptonite was more violent than anything lark had experienced."

"It wasn't her fault!" Jimmy shouted out; everyone stopped and stared at the teenager, startled by his outburst. "If you want to get mad at anyone, get mad at me for buying the damn thing in the first place, but stop blaming Linda for my mistake!" He marched past the adults and left the house, slamming the door behind him, jarring the walls.

There was an awkward silence as everyone just stood there, not sure how to react. Martha saw movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over to see Gar standing just inside the kitchen. He appeared a little groggy, but his eyes perked up a little when he saw the League members in the kitchen; he swallowed nervously, knowing that could only mean one thing.

"She's home, isn't she?" the teenager asked.

"Yes," Martha answered.

"How is she?" Gar pressed. "Can I see her?"

"Now…is not a good time," Jonathan replied honestly, "but Jimmy just left." He gave Gar a look.

"Okay," Gar said slowly, knowing what Jonathan was implying. He cautiously moved through the group and headed out of the house, closing the door behind him.

"That right there," Diana said, pointing to the closed kitchen door. "That is why we're concerned Barry; one of Linda's closest friends had to fight her—my guess for the first time ever—and she hurt him."

"Have you guys ever thought that maybe if you cared more about Linda and her feelings and growth as a person ," Barry replied, "she might grow into less of a threat and more of an ally—or even a fried? Trust me, it's entirely possible to feed your enemy."

"He's got a point," Oliver spoke up, trying to sound neutral. "I've seen how Linda behaves around other people: she wants to be a part of humanity—to be as normal as possible; regardless of how she behaved tonight, I don't think Linda's any more of a threat than anyone else in this room." He took a deep breath and glanced at Barry. "That being said, if she's having visions, then there must be something else going on with her…and we need to figure out what that is."

"Yeah," Barry said, his voice calmer and a bit softer, "because she hurt people she cares about—and that will tear her apart. And a guilt-ridden, hormonal teenager with superpowers personally worries me more than an irritated one. Anger is easy to get rid of, if one is willing; Linda is." He shrugged. "Guilt takes help—and Linda is going to need to know that we want to help her."

"I might have a suggestion," J'onn spoke up, his voice resonating.

(End of Chapter 14)


	15. Chapter 15

Jimmy angrily kicked a bucket, sending it sailing across to the other side of the barn; it hit the far wall and clattered to the floor. His breathing was laborious, his hands clenched, and he reflexively ground his teeth together.

"Wanna talk or something?"

The photographer jerked his head over and saw Gar standing just inside the double doors. "Not a good time, Gar," he replied, turning away.

"Dude, what happened wasn't your fault," Gar said as he stepped in, walking over and stopping near the tractor. "You didn't know that bracelet had red kryptonite—you didn't even **know** about red kryptonite and what it does."

"And **you** don't know how it felt to see her face covered in bruises," Jimmy retorted angrily, "to know that—because of something you gave her—she became so out of control that they only way to **stop** her was to **beat** her, then subdue her with a radioactive rock that makes her blood boil!" His emotional dam had been cracking since arriving in Smallville, but now it completely broke, and everything he'd been keeping bottled up burst out. "And then, just to make this whole thing **more** memorable, she shows up in my bedroom, dressed like a…," he motioned with his hands, "you know...throwing herself at me—and I didn't even realize anything is wrong."

"Well, given how you two feel about each other," Gar said gently, "why would you?" Jimmy gave him a look of disbelief. "Dude, I've seen the way you guys look at each other—everyone has—and I'm willing to bet there are some not-so-G-rated fantasies about her floating around in that gray matter of yours." Jimmy's cheeks turned red as he suddenly found his shoes interesting. "Look, I'm not trying to embarrass you or make you feel bad, okay? I just saying that you're a guy—and the girl of your dreams came into your room and made you an offer you couldn't refuse."

"But she wasn't herself," Jimmy replied. "She was sick and out of control—and it took a phone call from my boss to get me to see that." He shook his head. "What kind of person does that make me?"

"A selfish asshole."

Gar and Jimmy looked over and saw Dick standing just inside the open doors; his hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, and he glared at Jimmy. Gar glanced at the photographer, who suddenly appeared taller; his expression had changed to a hard stare, his jaw clenched.

"Dick, what are you doing here?" Gar asked, surprised and a little worried.

"I was gonna see how Linda was doing," Dick replied, never taking his eyes off Jimmy, "but I heard people talking in here; came to see who it was. Wasn't expecting to find you here—and **definitely** not him."

"I have as much right to be here as you," Jimmy said, his voice low with edge.

"How much did you hear?" Gar asked cautiously.

"Everything after **he** said Linda threw herself at him," Dick answered. He missed the relieved expression on Gar's face as he approached, stopping a couple of feet from Jimmy; Gar stood between the two, nervously glancing back at forth between them. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jimmy asked defensively as he took a step toward Dick.

"You say you care about Linda," Dick replied, edging closer to the photographer until they were inches apart, "but from the first moment you met her you've treated her like a freakin' yo-yo: flirting with her after breaking up with your other girlfriend—which you **conveniently** didn't mention to Linda. Then you made her feel guilty about not getting you a birthday present—which is really pathetic—then convinced her that dancing with you would be enough, but it wasn't enough, was it? You had to take it one step further by kissing her—and then the next day you decide that you want to be 'just friends.'"

"Dick, come on," Gar said, trying to wedge between the two but not having much luck "not now."

"This doesn't have anything to do with you, Malverne," Jimmy warned, his voice low, his teeth clenched. "Beat it."

"Oh, this has as much to do with me as it does with you," Dick retorted. "I'm sure Gar failed to mention you weren't the first person she threw herself at today." He saw the confusion flash across Jimmy's eyes, then Dick glanced over at Gar, who had shut his eyes briefly. "Yeah, I guess it would be dumb if Gar told you Linda kissed **him** this morning."

"What?" Jimmy asked as he looked at Gar.

"It was nothing, honest," Gar said quickly, holding up his hands defensively. "She just came up and gave me a quick peck," he squirmed a little, "on the lips. But that was it, I swear; she didn't even try anything else."

"Not until lunch, anyway," Dick said. "I was alone in the Torch office and Linda came in and threw herself at me and kissed me—and I kissed her back."

"So, it's okay for **you** to kiss her," Jimmy replied sarcastically, "but when someone else does it, they're an asshole."

Dick snorted. "At least I knew something was wrong **without** someone having to tell me." He easily towered over Jimmy, glaring. "You say you know her and care about her, but you don't even notice when she's sick! You didn't even have the guts to give her that thrift store bracelet I saw on her wrist in front of everyone else. The fact of the matter, Olsen, is Linda's a great person—and you don't deserve her!"

Dick didn't even see Jimmy's fist until it slammed into his face, knocking him to the ground. The teenager lay on his back, stunned, his nose throbbing as blood trickled down his face; he looked up and saw Jimmy advancing toward him, his face full of anger. Dick forgot about the pain in his nose as he quickly scrambled to his feet, dodging the photographer's swing and delivering one of his own. His clenched hand connected hard with the left side of Jimmy's face; Jimmy stumbled backward and hit a wooden column, grunting from the impact; he shook his head and looked over as Dick charged him, fist raised.

"That's enough!" Gar shouted, jumping between the two combatants, holding his hands out. Dick stopped short, hand still in the air, and both teenagers stared at Gar, as he looked back and forth between them. "Look, I know you two don't like each other, but fighting like this is not helping anyone. How do you think Linda would feel if she saw you two right now?"

"All I'm doing is taking out the trash," Dick replied, staring right at Jimmy. "Linda doesn't need any **garbage** in her life."

Jimmy advanced toward Dick, but Gar stopped him; he turned to Dick, furrowing his eyebrows. "Look, we're all a little stressed right now," he warned, "but if you're gonna continue acting like a jackass, then maybe it's best if you leave."

Dick slowly lowered his fist; he sharply inhaled, then snorted mirthlessly. "Why am I not surprised you're taking his side?" he asked sarcastically before wiping blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. "I'm outta here." He turned and marched out, leaving Gar and Jimmy alone.

Gar sighed, relieved, thankful the two had calmed down a little. He looked at Jimmy and was startled to see the photographer headed toward the barn entrance. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Jimmy stopped and turned around, sighing; the large bruise forming on his cheek, combined with the obvious ebb of his adrenaline, made him appear as if he'd been awake for a week. "Dick's right," he replied. "I don't deserve Linda—not after today."

"Come on, Jimmy," Gar said, "don't do this. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You didn't see how she looked at me when she came back," Jimmy replied. "She remembered everything that had happened—I could tell," he shook his head slightly, "and she couldn't even stand to look at me." He shook his head, feeling the lump in his throat; he swallowed, regaining his composure. "You can say it's not my fault until the end of time, but Linda is hurting because of me," he shrugged, "and nothing's gonna change that." He turned and walked silently out the barn, leaving Gar alone, a troubled expression on his face.

* * *

Linda lay on her bed, curled up on her side, tears streaming down her bruised and battered face. She had changed into a pair of sweatpants and tank top, the clothes she had worn during her drugged state tossed in the trash can. She was exhausted and longed to just close her eyes and sleep, but she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to rest ever again. She vividly remembered everything she had done, that had happened (or almost happened), what she had said—to everyone, and what she had felt.

Maybe I **am** a threat, she thought to herself, burying her head into her pillow as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. A knock on her door startled her, causing her to look over; her heart pounded in her chest, and she shook slightly as she stared at her bedroom door. She was tempted to tell whoever it was to go away and just leave her alone, but she had a feeling the person wouldn't have listened anyway.

"Come in," she responded, her voice shaking, as she slowly sat up, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks, as the door opened and J'onn walked in.

"Hello, Linda," he said softly as he closed the door behind him.

"Can I pack a few things first?" Linda asked softly.

J'onn tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. "I don't understand," he replied.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Linda asked. "To take me away."

J'onn stared at her sympathetically; she looked small and broken—far from the girl he knew she was. "No, my child," he replied, "you're not being taken away."

"I'm a threat," Linda said, sounding defeated. "I did things, felt things…I hurt people I care about, I hurt people I **didn't** care about, I…fought like a trained warrior—and I can't even explain why. If that doesn't make me a threat, then what am I?"

"You're someone who's experienced something very traumatic," J'onn replied, "and you don't know how to deal with it." He nodded at the bed. "May I sit down?" Linda hesitated, but then nodded before shifting into a sitting position, pulling her legs to her chest. J'onn sat at the foot of her bed, watching her for a few moments. "Linda, rest assured that no one downstairs bears you any ill will for how you behaved while you were under the influence of the kryptonite—or even because of the visions you've been experiencing."

"How do you know about those?" Linda asked fearfully, tensing.

"Clark explained to us you've been having them since the cave in," J'onn answered. "Barry revealed that you'd confided in him before Christmas." He noticed Linda's terrified expression. "Linda, I know this must be disconcerting, but we want to help figure out what is going on."

"You think I'm becoming unstable, don't you?" Linda asked, her voice laced with terror, her eyes welling up with fresh tears; she rested her forehead on her knees, covering her head with her hands.

"I don't know what is happening," J'onn replied honestly, "but that's why I'm here. I'd like to help you find those answers."

"By probing me?" Linda asked, slightly defensive, as she looked up; J'onn raised an eyebrow. "Clark told me that's your specialty: getting into people's minds. That's why you came to me instead of Clark; he's not good at mental blocking, yet."

"Which is something I'm helping him improve," J'onn replied, "but, yes, that's why I was sent to bring you to the others…and that's why I'm here. I think the best way to figure out what's going on—why you're having these visions, and why you had such a volatile reaction to the red kryptonite—is to delve into your subconscious."

"You think they're connected?" Linda asked.

J'onn nodded. "I do," he replied, "but I won't know for sure until I'm inside your mind…do I have your permission?"

"You're giving me a choice?" Linda asked, surprised.

"Of course," J'onn answered. "Right now, your mind is in an extremely fragile state; if I were to scan it without your consent, it could cause instability. I will only do it if you want me to."

Linda stared at him, hesitating; she knew he was telling the truth—that wasn't what scared her. She just wasn't sure if she could stomach what J'onn would find. After a few moments of wrestling back and forth, she finally nodded. "Okay," she said softly before slowly crossing her legs. "I'll do it."

J'onn nodded. "Okay," he replied as he moved closer to her, turning to face her, putting his hands against her temples. "Just close your eyes and relax."

"What if there's something in there that's…not good?" Linda asked worriedly.

"Then we'll deal with it," J'onn answered, his voice reassuring. "Now, close your eyes and relax."

Linda hesitated, but seeing J'onn's supportive expression put her a little at ease; taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, the young girl closed her eyes. J'onn took a deep breath and focused, everything being engulfed in a white light as he shut his eyes.

(End of Chapter 15)


	16. Chapter 16

When J'onn opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a dimly-lit, empty corridor. He looked to his left and saw a doorway made of white light; he knew from experience that type of doorway was the gateway out of the person's mind.

"Hello, J'onn."

J'onn recognized the voice and looked to his right as Linda approached. The young girl wore a white, long-sleeved coat with the stylized yellow crest of her family emblazoned on her chest; the coat split at her waist, flowed around her hips and legs as she walked. A long, royal blue skirt was visible underneath the coat, and her feet were adorned with silver, lace-up sandals. Her blonde hair was pulled back and held in place with a crystalline hair clip, and her glasses rested upon the bridge of her nose.

"Linda," J'onn said softly, surprised by her attire. It was clearly a combination of her human identity with what he recognized as Kryptonian attire; he tilted his head. "Or is it Kara Zor-El?"

"I'm actually just her avatar," the young girl replied, "but, to be honest, I'm not really sure who **she** is anymore." She shrugged as she removed her glasses. "Everything's been jumbled for such a long time, and the past twenty-four hours haven't really helped much, either."

"That's why I'm here," J'onn said, "to help you discover the truth."

Linda raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Okay," she said slowly, "but you might reconsider that in a few moments." She motioned him to follow her down the corridor; he obliged, keeping silent the entire time as made observations around him. The hall was plain and simple, with dim lights hanging down; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Linda walked through the open doorway at the end, followed by J'onn; she stepped to the side and watched J'onn as he stopped next to her. He looked up, and his eyes widened in shock.

The two stood on a balcony overlooking a series of staircases, but they weren't normal staircases: some led down, while others diagonal and sideways; doors at the end of the staircases were right side, upside down, or sideways—just like the stairs; Kryptonian symbols were carved into the walls. It reminded J'onn of the M.C. Escher sketch _Relativity_ ; it was as if the normal laws of physics didn't exist.

"See what I mean?" Linda asked.

J'onn kept staring. "This is," he said slowly, "astonishing." He heard a screeching sound and looked over to see a large, flaming bird swoop in from one corridor, maneuver around the staircases. J'onn could have sworn he heard the word 'destiny' in a whispered echo as the bird passed effortlessly through the young girl—who didn't even flinch—and twisted in midair, flying away down another corridor. The Martian glanced at Linda, who simply shrugged, unfazed by the encounter.

"Flamebird," the young girl explained. "It always does that whenever I encounter it; it doesn't hurt or anything."

"Do you know why it's here," J'onn asked, "or how long?"

Linda shook her head. "No," she answered, "but it's been here for a long time; that's all I really know."

"What about the symbols on the walls?" J'onn asked, indicating the carvings.

"Those have also been here for a long time," Linda replied. "All I know is their meaning: 'Caeulum videre iussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus.'"

"'He bid them look at the sky and lift their faces to the stars,'" J'onn said, musing. "It's from _Metamorphosis_."

Linda nodded. "And beyond that," she said, "I have no idea what they mean."

"Linda," J'onn said, turning to the young girl, "Clark and Barry mentioned that you've been having visions for the past few months." He noticed the troubled expression on Linda's face. "What is it?"

Linda nodded knowingly before walking to one of the stairways leading sideways; she stepped on it without falling before turning around and motioned for J'onn to join her. The Martian was hesitant at first, but he cautiously put his foot on the first step; like Linda, he stayed on. Only slightly unnerved, J'onn followed Linda as she made her way to the other side of the staircase.

Linda stepped onto a balcony at the end of the stairs and walked down another corridor; J'onn followed. Unlike the first one, this one was darker, with doors flanking either sides; each door had a nameplate on it. Curious, J'onn walked over to one and leaned over.

"'Jimmy,'" he read. The door suddenly flew open, and J'onn looked up. Inside the small room were thousands of lit tea candles, bathing the room in a soft glow; they surrounded a large canopy bed draped with white shear curtains and covered in white satin sheets. In the dim light, J'onn saw Jimmy and Linda under the sheets, unclothed, sharing a **very** intimate moment as the photographer caged the young girl with his body.

"And we'll just close that right now," Linda replied, hurrying over and shutting the door quickly, her cheeks bright red. "Sorry about that."

J'onn simply raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything as Linda continued down the corridor; he glanced at another door and saw 'Dick' on the nameplate. Like Jimmy's door, this door opened up suddenly of its own accord, and J'onn was met with another projection from Linda's mind. This one showed Dick Malverne and Linda dressed in their homecoming attire, in Dick's car as it sat parked in a secluded area; both teenagers were in the back seat, with Linda straddling Dick's lap; as they kissed hungrily, Linda reached around her back and started unzipping her dress.

"Sorry, sorry," Linda said as she quickly slammed that door shut, looking extremely embarrassed, her cheeks bright red. She glanced apologetically at J'onn and was a little surprised to see him watching, slightly amused. "What? Look, I've been trying to figure out how to keep these doors closed and locked, but they keep opening by themselves."

"I'm not here to judge you, Linda," J'onn said gently, "but it appears that you're trying to repress some feelings that want to come to the surface."

"Yeah, well, those feelings are **never** going to surface," Linda replied. "They can't."

"You're a teenager," J'onn said. "Those feelings are a normal part of life; they're nothing to be ashamed of."

"Maybe, but, hello, Kryptonian with superpowers," Linda replied. "It's kind of hard to act on feelings when you know you could get someone killed **by** acting on those feelings; what you saw is as far as those feelings will **ever** progress." She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Everything was fine until the red light came."

"What did the red light do?" J'onn asked, intrigued.

"Caused chaos," Linda replied. "It came out of nowhere and just…it opened all the doors and things just kept getting out." She shook her head slightly as tears welled up in her eyes. "I tried to get everything back where it belonged, but…'it' kept getting out—and I had to keep it from getting away."

"What is 'it'?" J'onn asked.

Linda stared at him for a few moments, then turned and walked down the corridor; J'onn followed. The two turned left, then made a right, followed by another right, heading down a corridor that was darker and more dingy than the others. It had doors on both sides, just like the others, but a larger door at the end of the corridor caught J'onn's attention; it was cracking and bulging outward, stopped only by the multiple ropes of energy strung across the door, acting as a barrier.

"That," Linda answered. "It's anger—her anger."

"That's a lot of anger," J'onn replied, stunned. "Has it always been like that?"

"Not really, no," Linda answered. "There was a time when the anger was smaller, easier to contain." She shrugged. "When the red light came, it opened the door and released all the anger at one time." A loud bellow emanated from the door as it shook, sending a shiver down J'onn's spine as he tensed up. When he glanced at Linda, he was shocked to see her appearance had changed: her clothes had been shredded, her hair messed up and half down, and her face, arms, and legs had been slashed; she held a large staff in her arms and appeared very tense, her eyes narrowed.

"What happened to you?" J'onn asked slowly.

"I was trying to look nice for you earlier so you wouldn't get worried," Linda replied as she gripped the staff tighter, "but it takes too much energy. This is what I've been doing the past twenty-four hours; fighting this thing—keeping it under control; it hasn't been easy, but I've managed to keep the uglier side of it down. Unfortunately, because my attention is here, other things have…surfaced, temporarily."

"Such as?" J'onn asked.

"Well, robbing the bank was Linda's resentment at having to get permission to get something that belongs to her," Linda replied, "and attacking Bruce and Oliver's facilities were because she's still upset with how she was treated."

"And Lex?" J'onn asked.

"She just doesn't like him," Linda answered, "and that was one of the things that slipped by; sorry about that."

"What about attacking the League?"

"She doesn't appreciate how everyone's been treating her," Linda said, "like she's an outcast and someone to be feared."

"Is that why she tried to kill us?" J'onn asked.

"Oh, she wouldn't have killed you," Linda replied, "she wouldn't have killed anyone," she shifted a little, embarrassed, "nor would she have forced herself on Jimmy or Dick . I made sure those parts **never** got past me; they would have destroyed her."

"So, even under the effects of red kryptonite," J'onn said slowly, intrigued, "Linda still had some control of her actions."

"Look, I have to stay here," Linda said, gripping her staff tighter, "reinforce the door some more, but if you want to get some more answers, then you should know all this…weirdness started when he showed up."

"'He'?" J'onn asked, curious.

"Go back, take a right, then a left," Linda said. "You can't miss him." Another rumble emanated from the door, and Linda faced the doorway, gripping the staff. "Go." She hurried toward the door, leaving J'onn. The Martian watched her for a few seconds before turning and leaving. He followed the girl's instructions, making his way quickly down the corridors, glancing left and right as he passed open doors containing projections of Linda's thoughts and dreams.

In one, he saw a fully-grown Linda soaring through the air, wearing a costume similar to Clark's. Another showed her locked up in a cage, surrounded by members of the League—including J'onn—as the young girl protested that she wasn't a threat, while her parents and Jimmy looked on in fear. Still, another showed Zor-El fighting the unknown man, stabbing him, and J'onn could have sworn he heard a high-pitched scream. J'onn was intrigued, but he kept going and turned down left down the last corridor and stopped short.

Like the corridor leading to Linda's anger, this corridor only had one door, and it appeared to be bulging like the other door, but in addition, cracks were developing in the door and along the corridor walls. What was more interesting, however, was the dark-haired man standing at the door, trying to fix the cracks and reinforce the door itself.

"Who are you?" J'onn asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he approached, stopping halfway up the corridor.

The man turned around, fixing the Martian with steel blue eyes. He was older and shorter than J'onn has first assumed, dressed in a black body suit and boots, with a dark green belt, but he stood in such a commanding way that he seemed taller than J'onn himself.

"My name is Rok-Var," the man replied, his voice powerful and imposing. "You are not familiar to me."

"My name is J'onn," the Martian said, recognizing the name of Linda's Kryptonian teacher. "I'm here to help Linda."

"I don't know any 'Linda,'" Rok-Var replied. "My charge is, and always will be, Kara Zor-El; it is her that I have been sworn to protect, and I will stop at nothing to keep her safe."

"Safe from what?" J'onn asked.

Rok-Var shook his head and opened his mouth, but then the corridor shook, causing both men to stumble. The cracks in the walls grew in size, and the door bulged a bit, cracking at the edge. Rok-Var's eyes widened as he hurried over to the door and pushed against it as hard as he could, groaning and mustering all his strength. J'onn watched as a sliver of light escape the crack in the door and floated in a cloud toward the Martian; J'onn's eyes widened as he managed to get a glimpse of what was in the cloud: it showed the man Zor-El killed sprawled next to a lifeless, dark-haired woman wearing a long, royal blue dress and silver sandals. J'onn saw blood soaking through their clothing, and he heard that same high-pitched scream echoing his ears as the cloud floated away. Everything shook more violently, causing both men to be knocked off their feet.

"It's not time!"

J'onn looked over as Rok-Var, his eyes wide with terror, quickly got to his feet and pushed against the door, stumbling but staying on his feet.

"What's happening?" J'onn asked as he carefully got to his feet, bracing himself against the wall for support.

"It's not holding!" Rok-Var answered. "I have to hold them back!" He looked over his shoulder at J'onn. "You have to go—now! It's not safe!"

J'onn wanted to ask what Rok-Var meant, but the tremors were increasing—and the Martian knew Linda's mind was experiencing a major upheaval, and he needed to get out quickly. He launched himself into the air and quickly flew down the corridors, zigging and zagging back the way he'd come. As he passed the hall where Linda's avatar had been, he saw her briefly struggling with the door containing her anger, but he continued, quickly finding himself in the space with all the staircases; he maneuvered around the staircases and zoomed down the corridor that led to the exit from Linda's mind. He saw the white light at the end of the hall and speed up as the convulsions continued; he zoomed through the exit.

(End of Chapter 16)


	17. Chapter 17

"He killed them!"

J'onn's eyes flew open, and he found himself back in Linda's bedroom, sitting next to the young girl, his hands still against the sides of her head. Linda's face was streaked with tears, her face contorted in horror.

"He killed them!" she shouted hysterically, crying. "He killed them!"

J'onn stared at Linda with shock and worry. "Linda, what's wrong?" he said.

"He killed them!" Linda said, staring at J'onn, her eyes wide with terror. "He just killed them!"

J'onn knew whatever was going on had been connected to what he had seen in Linda's mind, but in her current state he couldn't afford to have her her flying off the handle and hurting herself or someone else in the process; keeping his hands securely against her head, even as she struggled slightly against him, he stared right into her eyes.

"Linda, you're safe," he said gently. "No one is going to harm you here." His eyes glowed bright red, and Linda stopped struggling as her eyes locked with his. "You are safe…you are safe." Linda stared at J'onn for a few seconds, then her eyes slowly shut, and she went limp; J'onn moved to catch her before she fell off the bed, just as the bedroom door flew open and Jonathan, Martha, and Superman rushed in, their faces full of extreme worry; they stopped short when they saw Linda passed out in J'onn's arms.

"What happened?" Jonathan asked.

"She was having a vision," J'onn answered, "while I was inside her mind. It was…unpleasant for her. For her well-being, I activated the sleep receptors in her brain." He glanced down at the young girl sleep peacefully in his arms.

"Will she be okay?" Martha asked softly, her voice wavering slightly.

"All I've done is given her sleep," J'onn replied, "a dreamless sleep, to allow her to rest; she will need it to begin coping with what's transpired." He glanced over and saw Barry, Oliver, Bruce, and the rest of his teammates standing just outside the doorway, watching with various degrees of concern. "And until then, we have much to discuss."

* * *

Richard Maverick lay in a hospital bed at Metropolis General, his hand and wrist in a cast; he had a morphine drip that was taking the edge off his pain, but he was still alert enough to be scared of the visitor standing in the shadows, looking down at him, trying to pierce his soul.

"So, tell me once more," Lex said. "What happened?"

"Just like I said earlier," Richard mumbled. "She showed up out of the blue and when I tried being friendly, she broke my wrist and then lift me up and threw me into the wall; I pulled out my gun and fired at her, but she caught a bullet, crushed my gun in her bare hands, moved like lightning, her eyes glowing…and then threw me into a wall again after that guy showed up."

"What did he look like?" Lex asked.

"Didn't really get a good look at him before she threw me into the wall the second time," Richard answered, "but he was tall with dark hair, wearing dark clothes. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here with the doctors and nurses around me. Look, sir, I know this sounds crazy, but I think that was the Metropolis Girl, you know, the one that threw that guy through the window last summer."

"You really think so?" Lex asked.

Richard nodded. "I mean, she was wearing different clothes, but a blonde teenager with superpowers, throwing people around…fits the bill, sir." Lex raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe me?"

"No, I think you're telling the truth," Lex answered, "though I do have to question the character of a man who has no problem wanting to screw a teenager who isn't even legal."

"I never said—"

"Richard, how long have you been working for me?" Lex asked.

"Three years, sir," Richard answered.

"And during that time," Lex continued, "you've racked up quite a few, shall we say, conquests—most of whom were barely legal."

"But they were **still** legal, sir," Richard pointed out.

"Well, from what we've seen about her in the news," Lex continued, "the Metropolis Girl isn't."

"I know, but she would've been worth it," Richard muttered, allowing himself a small smirk, despite his injuries. He sighed and glanced up at his boss, seeing the expressionless reaction on Lex's face. "So, uh, look, I'm sorry you had to be dragged down here for nothing; I know you've had a lot on your plate today."

"Oh, it hasn't been that bad of a day," Lex replied calmly. "I've just had one of my facilities severely damaged by a meta-human, plus you were attacked by the Metropolis Girl."

"So, what's the plan for handling the press?" Richard asked.

Lex slowly smiled back at Richard. "Don't worry, Richard," he said, "I'll take care of everything."

"Thank you, sir," Richard said, relieved. He raised his eyebrow when he saw Lex manipulating the morphine drip. "Uh, sir, what're you doing?"

"Like I said, Richard," Lex replied, before pulling a small syringe filled with clear liquid from inside his jacket pocket, "I'll take care of everything."

Richard reached for the call button, but the immediate morphine rush caused every muscle in the young man's body to suddenly and completely relax; he couldn't even raise his head. His arm fell limply to his side, and he tried to call for help, but he could barely whisper. All he could do was watch helplessly as Lex removed the cap from the needle and injected the injected the contents of the syringe into the IV drip.

"Sleep well, Richard," Lex said, a cruel smile on his lips as he put the stopper back on the needle and the empty syringe back into his pocket; he turned and left the room as Richard's eyes slowly closed. The businessman made it to the elevator as he heard the loud beeping of the emergency alarm, and he glanced over his shoulder as nurses rushed to Richard's room, wheeling a crash cart; by the time the elevator reached the first floor Richard was pronounced dead.

(End of Chapter 17)


	18. Chapter 18

Linda slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom; she furrowed her eyebrows, confused at the sunlight streaming in the bedroom window, bathing her and the rest of the room in a soft yellow. The last thing she could remember was it had been nighttime, and J'onn had been with her, telling her he was going to find out what was wrong, then...nothing. Suddenly, the memories of everything that had happened the previous day flooded back, and Linda felt sick to her stomach. She was tempted to jump out of bed and run as fast and far away as she could, but she had no desire to use her powers any time soon—or even in the near future; she also knew that after last night, there was no place on Earth she could hide without being found.

Linda knew she was going to have to face the consequences of what she had done sooner or later, and it was only going to be worse the longer she dragged it out. Sighing, she slowly sat up and pulled back the covers, putting her feet on the floor; she got up, not even bothering to grab her glasses from the nightstand, and padded across the room. She carefully opened it and peeked out, hesitantly; seeing no one there, she made her way into the hall and headed down the stairs to the kitchen.

Jonathan sat at the table reading his newspaper, but he looked over when he heard the slight creak; his heart skipped a little when he saw Linda standing halfway up the stairs. She wore her tank top and sweatpants, her hair was a little rumpled, and the bruises on her body had already faded; the farmer could see some of the life had returned to his daughter's eyes, but she still hung back, looking scared and uncertain.

"Linda," he said softly and calmly as he put his paper down and got to his feet. Martha and Clark, who had been at the sink doing dishes, turned around when they heard Jonathan's voice; they saw the young girl standing on the stairs, and a look of relief washed over their faces. Clark quickly turned off the water as Martha put down the dishtowel in her hands. The adults wanted to approach the teenager, but they could see how uncertain she appeared and kept their distance.

"How are you feeling?" Martha asked cautiously.

Linda opened her mouth, then paused; she sighed and shrugged. "I don't know," she whispered after a few moments.

"Why don't we sit down and talk?" Jonathan suggested as he folded up his paper and put it aside. He watched as Martha and Clark immediately made their way over to the table and sit down.

Linda watched them, but remained rooted to her spot, scared to move. She saw Jonathan's face morph from a serious and worried expression to one with a lot more warmth and compassion, his eyes still radiating concern. Still scared and moving , the young girl—moving almost automatically—slowly descended the stairs and made her way over to her spot at the table; she sat down and just stared at the wooden top, too fearful to make eye contact with anyone.

"Look, I know you're really mad at me," she said softly after a period of silence. "I don't blame you."

"Sweetie, we're not mad," Martha replied, making sure to keep her voice low and tender. "It wasn't your fault."

"How can you say that?" Linda asked as she looked up, her eyes bright with tears. "Everything I said and felt and did wasn't because of the kryptonite; it was a part of me."

"Linda, everyone has a part of themselves they keep in check," Jonathan said, "things they want to say or do but don't; having that part inside of you is nothing to be ashamed of."

"But losing control of it is," Linda retorted, using all her strength to keep her composure.

"You didn't lose control," Clark spoke up.

Linda furrowed her eyebrows. "Clark, you only saw part of how I was," she said. "I stole money, destroyed property," she shook her head as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I **enjoyed** what I was doing, and didn't care who got hurt…and I didn't want it to stop. How is that not losing control?"

"Because you didn't kill," Clark answered somberly. He saw the confusion in his cousin's eyes and took a deep breath. "Linda, do you remember anything about what J'onn did last night?"

"Only that he was going to try to figure out what was wrong with me," Linda replied. "Last thing I remember was him telling me relax; next thing I know it's morning."

"When J'onn was inside your mind," Clark continued, "he determined that, even under the red kryptonite's influence, your mind fought to keep some control over your actions…even if it couldn't keep control of all of them."

"And it's those actions that hurt everyone," Linda retorted softly. "Everyone's going to remember that I robbed a bank and destroyed property, threw Oliver and Pete around the kitchen like ragdolls, fought Gar and knocked him unconscious, fought the League…and I **still** can't explain how I was able to stand up to Diana the way I did."

"We'll revisit that later," Jonathan said gently. "Right now, I think we should discuss some other things." He saw a look of fear briefly wash over his daughter's face but quickly disappear. "Linda, we know the life you had before coming to Earth was horrible, and you felt powerless and bottled up a lot of emotions, but you've been keeping things bottled up here as well—we saw some of those feelings come out while you were under the influence of the red kryptonite. You're a part of this family now, and we all want you to trust us enough to be comfortable telling us what's on your mind when something's bothering you."

"What if that something is you?" Linda asked.

Jonathan was a little taken aback; Linda's voice had been calm, with no hint of contempt, but the words still stung a little. He glanced briefly at Martha and Clark, who looked just as troubled, before looking back at Linda. "Does this have to do with us keeping you here until all your powers come in?"

"Part of it," Linda replied. "Look, I get that part—I don't like it, but I get it. What's really been bothering me lately is...is that I don't feel like I completely belong in this family."

"Linda, honey, it's going to take time," Martha said gently. "We're all having to adjust to this, but it doesn't mean we don't love you or think you shouldn't be part of this family."

"Did you ever look at Clark differently?" Linda asked suddenly. "Like he wasn't your son?" The adults glanced at each other, confused by her question.

"Linda, what is this really about?" Clark pressed carefully.

"I had a vision Sunday night," Linda replied, "when I was taking my bath, right before the party; it was about my father killing that man." She saw the adults exchange a quick glance. "And that's why I didn't say anything."

"What are you talking about?" Martha asked.

"That look," Linda answered. "The worry, the fear; it's only there for a brief second, but I know it's directed at me—and it just reminds me that I'm different…and it makes me feel like I don't belong here."

"Linda," Jonathan said gently, "you **are** part of this family, which means we are going to worry about you, whether it's something related to your powers or these visions you've been having or something completely different." He glanced at Clark and Martha briefly. "And, yes, we are fearful—for you; up until last night, we had no idea why you were having these visions in the first place, and we were concerned how it was affecting you."

"But it doesn't mean we care about you any less," Martha added, "and if we haven't told you that, or if we've done anything to make you feel like you're not part of this family, then we are truly sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me about red kryptonite?" Linda asked.

"That was my fault," Clark answered. "When I told you about green kryptonite last year, I didn't mention the red stuff…because I honestly thought it had all been destroyed," he shifted in his seat, looking a little uncomfortable, "and the last time I was affected was when I was a little older than you—and I'm not proud of what I did while I was under its influence."

"Couldn't have been any worse than all the stuff I did," Linda muttered.

"Actually, it was," Clark replied. He glanced at his parents, and Martha reached over to take his hand, while Jonathan put a hand on his son's shoulder; Clark swallowed nervously before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I made some poor choices that led to some…painful consequences, and instead of dealing with those consequences, I purposefully put on a ring that had a red kryptonite stone in it…and I ran away for three months." He had forgiven himself years ago for what had happened, what he had done, but it was still a little difficult to talk about; he glanced at Linda, who looked at him sympathetically.

"So, why didn't you just tell me?" she asked.

"Because it wasn't something I was proud of," Clark answered, "and I didn't want you to look at me the way you're looking at me now." He sighed. "Look, I should've said something about it earlier; if I had, then maybe this entire mess could've been avoided, so, if you want to, you can be mad at me."

"Not mad," Linda said softly, "just a little hurt that you felt I couldn't handle it." She saw the slightly disappointed expression on Clark's face, but he simply nodded, accepting that. "Are there any other forms of kryptonite?"

"Not that we're aware of," Jonathan replied honestly, "and I hope it stays that way."

"Good," Linda looked a little relieved. "So, I guess that means we're going to have to screen my jewelry from now on, huh?" Her eyes suddenly widened and her cheeks turned red before she buried her face in her hands. "Jimmy." The adults shared a three-way glance, and Jonathan saw Clark wanting to say something, but the farmer shook his head; Clark nodded and kept quiet.

"Linda, Jimmy came by last night," Martha said gently, and everyone heard Linda groan softly, "and told us what happened between the two of you." Linda groaned again, and Martha put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "We're not upset."

Linda took her hands down, and everyone could see she was embarrassed and on the verge of tears. "Is he still here?"

"He was pretty upset," Jonathan replied, "but he left before we could have a chance to talk to him" he saw Linda open her mouth, "and he got home safe and sound, don't worry."

"I need to talk to him," Linda said urgently. "It wasn't his fault; he didn't know about red kryptonite…did he?"

"No, he didn't," Martha said, "but it might be best to give him some time right now so he can deal with this as well."

Linda nodded and wiped her cheeks; she inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "So," she said slowly, "you said up until last night you didn't know why I was having these visions."

"They're not visions," Clark said slowly. "J'onn thinks what you've been seeing are actually…memories."

Linda furrowed her eyebrows. "'Memories'?" she asked. "Of what?"

"He wasn't sure," Clark replied, "but he thinks that they were put there by...," he glanced at Linda, "Rok-Var."

Linda appeared completely confused. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "What does this have to do with Rok-Var?"

"When J'onn entered your mind," Clark explained, "he ran into a projection of Rok-Var; he appeared to be guarding an area of your mind; Rok-Var was trying to keep that area blocked off. J'onn saw something come out of that area—an image of your father killing two people—and then when he left your mind, you were hysterical, shouting 'He killed them' over and over again; J'onn was forced to telepathically suggest you sleep to calm you down."

"I don't remember any of that," Linda said slowly, totally bewildered and a bit frightened by this revelation. "Does this mean I'm going crazy?"

"J'onn doesn't think so," Jonathan replied. "He, uh, thinks that seeing your father murder those two people was so traumatic that Rok-Var felt the need to block it from your memory and replace it with others."

"So, the pink beach," Linda said slowly, "and all the other things I've seen aren't even real; they're just made up?"

"Yes," Martha replied. "He also thinks that's why the red kryptonite caused you to become more violent more quickly: your mind was already unstable with what Rok-Var had done that the red kryptonite had no mental barriers to break through."

Linda just stared at the table, stunned, trying to process all this information. "So, I'm not losing it?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"No," Jonathan answered, "but J'onn did mention that he is a bit concerned you're keeping your feelings and thoughts bottled up," Linda opened her mouth, but Jonathan held up a hand, stopping her, "and we understand that there are some things that you may not feel comfortable talking to us about, but you can't keep them to yourself; it's not healthy."

"And how does he propose I deal with it?" Linda asked.

"He thinks," Jonathan continued, "it would be in your best interest if you spent a couple of hours every week talking to someone about…whatever you feel like talking about it; that way you get it off your chest and it's ."

"J'onn thinks I should see a shrink?" Linda asked in disbelief.

"Essentially, yes," Jonathan answered, "and we agreed with him." Linda opened her mouth to protest, but Jonathan stopped her. "And before you say anything, J'onn says he'll only do it if you feel comfortable with him."

Linda slowly furrowed her eyebrows, confused. "J'onn?" she asked.

"Well, you needed someone who already knows the truth about you," Martha replied, "and who can be trusted, both with who you are and with whatever you two talk about—but J'onn did say that there will be things he will have to talk with us about, but he'll let you know before."

"Linda, we really think this is the best thing for you," Clark said gently. "We think it'll help make sense of everything." Linda stared at the table, and everyone could tell she was processing everything, weighing the pros and cons, and they waited patiently. Finally, after almost half a minute, the young girl nodded slightly.

"Okay," she said softly, her eyes bright with tears, "I'll do it." She knew she was doing the right thing, but it didn't ease the worry she felt in her heart. As she continued to stare at the table, she felt a strong arm on her shoulder; she slowly looked over and saw Jonathan had moved to kneel beside her chair, looking up at her with an expression full of love and reassurance. The young girl's resolve dissolved when she turned and leaned against her father, wrapping her arms around Jonathan's neck; she cried softly into his shoulder as the farmer held her close.

(End of Chapter 18)


	19. Chapter 19

The next morning, Linda walked slowly down the main hall at Smallville High, holding onto the strap of her backpack. She ignored the murmurs from some of the students—not an easy task for someone with super-hearing—but she bit her lip and kept her gaze down as she quickened her pace to her locker; she wordlessly spun the combination and opened the door, making sure to get the supplies she needed.

"Miss Kent?"

Linda turned around and saw Principal Turner approaching her. "Yes, sir?" she asked cautiously. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"No," Turner answered, "I just wanted to check up on you, make sure there isn't anything you need."

"My parents **did** talk to you yesterday, right?" Linda asked, her stomach tightening a little.

"Yes, don't worry," Turner replied, "they informed me that your…unusual behavior and choice of attire on Monday was due to a bad reaction to some medicine you were taking. That being the case, you will be given the rest of the week to catch up on any assignments you missed from your classes," he tilted his head a bit, "and I can say with confidence that we won't see a repeat of this, will we?"

"No, sir," Linda said.

Turner nodded. "Have a good day, Miss Kent." He left her and headed down the corridor. Linda breathed a small sigh of relief before going back to getting her things. When she finished, she closed her locker and glanced up at the hall clock; she had ten minutes before her first class. Making a last minute decision, she headed down the hall, making a beeline for the Torch office; she stopped just outside the open door, swallowing nervously, before taking a deep breath and slowly walked in, pausing just inside.

Cutter and Wally sat at their desks, talking with Dick, Mattie, Andy, and Buzz as they stood around. Linda just simply stayed quiet and hung back, watching them. After a few moments, Buzz happened to glance up, noticed her.

"Linda," he said, his tone mostly neutral with a hint of surprise. Everyone looked over, and Linda could see a variety of expressions on her friends' faces, but she quickly noticed there was a lack of enthusiasm at her appearance; she swallowed nervously, tempted to leave, but knowing she couldn't.

"Hi, guys," she said softly.

"So, we're back to wearing normal clothes," Mattie asked, folding her arms, "or am I speaking out of turn again?"

Linda inwardly winced as she heard the sarcasm and hurt in her friend's voice. "I guess I kinda deserved that," she said softly before sighing. "Look, I'm really sorry about Monday; I was—"

"Having a bad reaction to some medicine," Andy interrupted, looking just as upset. "Dick told us yesterday."

Linda glanced at Dick, and her eyes widened when she saw his bruised nose. "What happened?" she asked, stepping forward, concerned.

"What, Olsen and Gar didn't fill you in?" Dick spat, frowning at her.

Linda opened her mouth, but she paused when her eyes grew bright with tears; she swallowed and composed herself. "No," she replied softly. "What happened?"

"Look, I've already made a fool of myself twice in one week," Dick replied, "so, if you don't mind, I'm outta here." He brushed past Linda and stormed out of the Torch.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" Linda asked softly.

"No," Andy replied, "but you can't blame him for being upset after what happened; you humiliated him, Linda."

"It wasn't my fault," Linda protested.

"We know," Mattie said, "but you stirred up a **big** hornet's nest with how you acted—to all of us—and it's going to take some time to get everyone to calm down." Her tone softened slightly, even if her expression still appeared stern. "It might be best to give everyone a little space for the time being." She and Andy wordlessly headed out of the office, followed by Buzz.

"So, I guess that means I should probably stay out of here for now, huh?" Linda asked softly as she looked at Cutter and Wally.

"Not unless you want to," Cutter said gently.

"You're not mad at me?" Linda asked, confused.

"You were sick," Wally replied as he shrugged. "I mean, yeah, things were said and stuff, but we know it wasn't on purpose." He gave her a small, compassionate smile. "Our door'll always open for you." Linda looked grateful, even as she appeared on the verge of tears.

"Hey, uh, look, I know this is a bit of a change of topic," Cutter said, "but we heard over the police band your money was recovered Monday night—except for a few hundred grand—but your bosses said they'd reimburse you for the loss."

"Yeah, that was nice of them," Linda replied, trying not to shift uncomfortably as she thought back to her fight; she quickly pushed the images of fighting Oliver and Bruce from her mind.

"Oh, and did you see the Planet's headline this morning?" Wally asked.

A look of sadness briefly washed over Linda's eyes, but she kept her composure. "No, what?" she asked.

Cutter turned his monitor around for Linda to see an online Daily Planet article. The headline read 'Jewelry Store Gyp' in bold black letters; the photo in the article showed a man in handcuffs, being led by a couple of officers out of a store with the name 'Gandolf's Pawn Shop.' "Guy was replacing rubies in his jewelry with worthless meteor rocks," he said, "and selling the jewelry at full price in his store and the rubies on the black market, and then pocketing the profits."

"And before you ask," Wally said, "yeah, meteor rocks can be red, too; Chloe Sullivan did a story involving the school rings being loaded with the suckers instead of rubies." He folded his arms, a little amused. "Rumor has it, Batman had been investigating the whole thing and got the guy to confess; guy was begging the police to take him in." He raised an eyebrow, seeing Linda's sullen expression. "Hey, you okay?"

Linda already knew about the story—Clark had informed her yesterday that Bruce investigated the origin of Jimmy's bracelet—so, it was nothing new to the young girl, but she still wasn't fond any time someone mentioned red kryptonite. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm just…tired, I guess," she glanced at the wall clock, "and I need to get to class before I'm late; I'll see you guys later." She turned and quickly headed out of the office, leaving Cutter and Wally looking a little bewildered. She had just stepped out into the deserted hallway—the other students were already in class—when she stopped short. About ten feet away was Gar; when he saw her, he froze. The two just stared at each other for a few moments; it had been the first time they'd seen each other since Monday.

"Hey," Gar said softly.

"Hi," Linda replied in a whispered.

"Are you okay?" Gar asked as he slowly approached.

"I guess," Linda said, finding it hard to look at him, knowing what she had done. "You?"

Gar shrugged. "Better than Monday."

"Gar, I'm so sorry," Linda said. "I didn't mean to hurt you," her cheeks turned pink, "or kiss you."

"I know," Gar replied. "Your parents told me about the red kryptonite…I'm not mad at you." He could tell she looked unconvinced. "Look, uh, I'm sorry about what I did."

"I know," Linda said, "but I'm glad you did."

Gar tilted his head, confused. "I changed into a bear and backhanded you through your kitchen wall," he said slowly, "and you're thankful?"

Linda nodded. "You kept me from hurting everyone more than I already had," she replied, her chin quivering, her eyes filling with tears, "even though it doesn't matter; I'm a screw up."

"Why do you say that?" Gar asked, concerned.

"You saw what I did to Dick and Mattie and everyone else here," Linda said. "I know they need to process everything—I do, too—but I hurt them…and I don't know if I just lost my friends or not." Tears spilled down her cheeks. "And Jimmy emailed me last night; he doesn't want to be around me anymore."

"He's blaming himself for what happened," Gar replied gently; he hesitated, but he knew he couldn't keep it a secret. "And Dick didn't exactly help the situation; it was like he was asking Jimmy to punch him."

Linda closed her eyes. "They fought over me," she said softly in disbelief.

"Yeah," Gar answered softly. "Look, uh, Jimmy's just blaming himself; just give him some time to deal with this…he'll come around."

"You know," Linda said, looking miserable, her voice wavering, "I've been trying to be normal every since I came here—to have some semblance of a normal life—but then stuff like this comes up, and it just reminds me that I'm not normal…and I'm never going to be." She shook her head. "I'm beginning to think that the only good thing that came from Krypton was Clark."

"Shut your face," Gar said bluntly. " **Two** good things came from Krypton, and you're the prettier one."

Linda tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace as she wordlessly hugged her friend around the neck; Gar wrapped his arms around her and just let her cry into his shoulder, her sobs muted by the echoes of the tardy bell resonating down the hall.

(THE END)


End file.
